Cold Case File
by i-was-broken
Summary: Bella is investigating a rash of serial killings in Rochester, NY when Edward Cullen crosses her path and raises her suspicion. Is there more to Edward than meets the eye? Can Bella fight her attraction to a man who might be her suspect?
1. Dead End

"Bella Swan, Criminal Investigations Division," I said, grabbing the badge that hung on a lanyard around my neck and showing my credentials to the officer standing in front of the yellow crime tape. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dampening and darkening his hair. _Rookie._ He couldn't even handle a crime scene. He looked even paler in the moonlight with the blue lights from the squad car flickering over his baby face.

I ducked under the garish tape that alerted the entire neighborhood that a crime had taken place beyond this dead end road. Locals stood huddled together behind "Officer Greenhorn's cruiser, gossiping, wondering if anyone was unaccounted for. It was the fourth homicide I'd investigated in the last month—and they all bore similar details. We had a serial killer on the loose in Rochester, New York.

I stumbled through the darkness, leaves and twigs snapping under my feet as I made my way through the thicket. The bright, white work lights illuminated the way to the scene of the crime. Or dump site, more appropriately. We never found any clues or evidence with the body itself. No DNA, no tire tracks, no stray hairs, or carpet fibers or anything else.

Just a body.

Drained of blood.

That was one detail we'd kept from the media at all costs. I could imagine the headlines: **Vampire Killer Loose In Rochester!** The less reputable papers would have headlines that said **Chupacabras Kill Four in NY!**

The terrain abruptly began to slope downward, and I stumbled, barely catching myself on a nearby tree. It was going to be a long night. The trees gave way to tall grass, and the ground opened up in a narrow gash, like a wound. A trickle of water ran through the ditch like blood.

I could hear the low murmurs of the investigators of the Major Crime Unit and see the flash of the cameras from the Technicians Unit. I noticed there were few numbered yellow markers signifying evidence, and the other officers from the unit stood idly by, helpless.

I was late, and the sound of the dry, brittle grass of late summer crunching under my feet gave my stealthy entrance away.

"Hey, Swan, nice of you to join us."

The smartass who was occasionally my partner couldn't resist saying something. He always had something to snark about, usually overstating the obvious. I think he was just in love with the sound of his own voice.

"Yeah, thanks for noticing, Newton. Never mind that I was covering your ass back at the station and faxed in a report to the DA's Office. They said they asked for it three days ago."

"Oops," he replied with a sarcastic chuckle.

A few of the boys laughed in response. Yeah, murder was real funny.

"What've we got?" I asked, getting my first look at the body.

This one wasn't a prostitute or a transient. The remaining pieces of clothing on the body were too nice. The corpse lay face down in the gully, shirt removed. Deep claw marks sliced across his back. The surrounding flesh was dark purple, indicating there had been some kind of violent attack. A putrid smell filled the air—this one had been here a while.

"Male, approximately eighteen to twenty five. No ID, but a wallet was in his back pocket," someone answered. I didn't look up to see who had spoken.

"Let me guess, money was still inside, right?" I suggested. Robbery clearly hadn't been a motive. The prostitute we found last week had $150 in her bra, the homeless guy ten days ago had $13 in his coat pocket, and there wasn't enough of the first body left to ascertain that kind of information.

"You got it," Mike Newton said, tossing me a pair of latex gloves.

I caught one, but the other fell at my feet. I wriggled my right hand into the glove and stooped to pick up the other, tucking it in the pocket of my jacket.

"Hey, Angela, anything?" I asked the Tech photographing the body. I hoped she could give me some good news—my job and the residents of Rochester depended on it.

"Hey, Bella," she replied, snapping a picture of a clear, glass Mason Jar next to evidence marker number three. "Sorry, I've got nothing. No prints, spatter, or fibers. Just the body and this jar."

Damn it.

If this was a dump site, how could there be no footprints? Did they fly over and dump the body? The long grass wasn't even broken or disturbed. I clutched my hair and looked up through the trees at the sky in frustration.

The wind picked up and the branches creaked overhead. I caught a foul breath of air. Yep, he had been here at least ten days.

"Did you photograph the body?" I asked, crouching next to it.

Angela nodded, turning to capture a picture of the water running downstream toward a simple sewer drain. "Yeah, go ahead and move him. Medical Examiner is on the way."

I did a rudimentary examination, ascertaining that there were more scratches and bruises across the torso and that his throat had been ripped out. I was sure the Medical Examiner would find some broken bones too. We had no idea what could do this level of damage to a human. The injuries were completely animalistic and similar to those found in nature, but the flesh hadn't been consumed, and there was no saliva or hair left behind. A human being couldn't inflict this kind of damage on another human without some kind of weapon—and there was no sign of one. What would the motive be anyhow? We were stumped. Even the Medical Examiner's office had no idea how to categorize the crimes. We didn't know if we had a rabid animal or a sick human on the loose.

There were no stab wounds, no bullet wounds, nothing to indicate blunt force trauma—just a seriously violent battle between our vic and… something else.

"Anyone check the drain?"

Newton moved closer. "It's clean. Nothing."

By the time the body got here, it was already drained dry. I didn't need the ME to tell me that. There was no evidence left to transfer.

"Who found the body?" I questioned, rising from my crouch.

Mike shrugged. "Some kid."

Jesus.

His lackadaisical tone was appalling.

"Anyone talk to him?" I snapped, looking around at the small crowd of detectives.

"No, a Social Worker is with him now. He wasn't in any shape to talk."

I nodded. I could empathize.

I tore the glove off, turning it inside out, tossing it and the fallen one into one of the trash bags the Tech Unit brought. I turned away from the scene and slowly climbed the slope again, returning to the road.

As I crested the hill, I could see another squad car parked near the yellow dead end sign. A larger crowd had amassed, and the news vans had arrived. One was already doing a live broadcast.

Near the corner, a small boy clung desperately to a woman's hand, and next to them stood a social worker from the Impact Team. My throat clenched uncomfortably at the sight of the fearful child. I wished someone had been there to hold my hand so many years ago. I reached blindly for my badge and presented it as I stepped up.

"Hi, I'm Detective Swan from the Major Crime Unit."

The boy said nothing, and the mother's face was red and streaked with tear stains. She pressed her lips together and nodded. Brenda, the social worker, spoke up.

"Detective Swan will be on the team investigating the case."

My eyes darted between the boy and his mother. "Did he say anything?"

She sniffled. "Henry came down to look for fireflies," she said, wiping her tears. "I heard him scream a few minutes later. We just live down there." She pointed to the nearest house before the road hit a dead end. "He told me there was a man in the ditch. I thought it was a joke at first, but then I wondered if there was some kind of predator or something. I asked what the man said, and that's when he told me he was laying down and not moving. I called 9-1-1 and locked us inside the house."

My gaze shifted to the dark-haired boy at her side. His shoe was untied, but he bore no obvious signs of touching anything at the scene. His shoes weren't muddied and his hands were clean. He still clung to his trusty bug net. Poor, innocent thing would never forget this day.

"May I?" I asked his mother, indicating I wished to speak to the boy.

Her fingers raked gently through his dark curls in a comforting gesture. "Sure," she answered. "He's very brave."

I squatted down next to him, wobbling slightly, my hand darting out to steady myself on the ruddy, dirt road.

"Did you find any lightning bugs?" I asked, pointing at the net resting against his leg.

"Nuh-uh," he replied, shaking his head.

I made a face. "Bummer."

"Can I have my bug jar back?" he asked, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his dinosaur t-shirt.

I highly doubted any evidence clung to the canning jar, but my luck would be that one drop of blood or random hair was attached to it. I shook my head slowly. "Sorry. Your jar is very important now—maybe the most important jar in Monroe County. That's pretty cool, huh? The Police Department needs it now. It might help us."

A fat tear leaked from his brown eyes and he quickly wiped it away. "Okay."

I swallowed, planning out how to direct the course of the conversation with minimal trauma. "When you found the man in the ditch, did you see anybody or anything else? A person, an animal maybe?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Nuh-uh. Just me."

As I suspected. Maybe my crack-theory about the bodies dropping out of planes wasn't far off. "Did you touch anything? I won't be mad." I let the corners of my lips uplift, hinting at a smile. I didn't want him to be any more afraid than he already was.

He shook his head again, more insistently this time, his mahogany curls bouncing against his forehead. "No, nuh-uh. I saw…that man, and I dropped my jar. I ran home." There was a pause and his hands fidgeted on the handle of his butterfly net. "Is—is that guy dead?"

I nodded soberly. "Yes, Henry. I'm afraid so, but you were very brave to tell your mom and talk to me."

I didn't think the boy could be any further help, and I didn't want to force him to relive the ugliness any longer. At least he had a mother or a family to look after him, which is more than I really had. He would have someone to hold him and soothe him at night when the nightmares came.

I motioned to the officer who drove the car we were standing by and shared a quiet conversation with him. The small token he retrieved from his trunk would do nothing to heal the boy's soul, but it was the best I could offer.

The officer dropped a piece of molded plastic in my hand before I returned to Henry, who stood alone while the social worker spoke with his mother about post traumatic stress disorder and counseling. '

"Here, Henry, I want you to have this, okay? You did a great job today."

I kneeled down, slipping the little, plastic, gold badge into his hand. An involuntary flashback flooded my memory when our hands touched. I could clearly remember the face of the officer who gave me my own star-shaped 'police badge' remarkably like this one. It was such an empty, unhelpful gesture. I can remember dropping mine in the muddy parking lot at the boat launch.

I tied his shoelace while I was crouched down and rose as Mike and another officer, Tyler Crowley, approached.

"Get anything from the kid?"

He really had a knack for sounding like a careless ass.

"No, Newton."

"Damn. Going to talk to the media?"

I grunted affirmatively. "Now, before they make up their own mind about what happened."

As we approached the cordoned-off section of reporters, they began clamoring, calling Mike, Tyler, and myself by name. Each reporter stood with a notebook or iPhone, a camera over their shoulder. I inclined my head at Ben, Angela's boyfriend, a reporter with the local newspaper. How they made their relationship work was amazing—they refused to let the semantics of their jobs interfere in their personal connection.

We answered a barrage of questions, most of which were answered with the standard "No comment" reply, but the media already had a good insight about what went on behind the crime scene tape.

"Officer Swan, is it true a homicide is fifty percent less likely to be solved if there's no lead within the first forty-eight hours?"

Microphones from each of the local news channels were abruptly shoved in my face, print reporters leaned in with their phones to record the statement, and the bright lights from the cameras was blinding.

I blinked, uncomfortable with the attention and prepared my statement in my head while the reporters waited impatiently. That was a stat _every_ homicide detective knew and tried to prevent. "Yes, that's true. The Major Crime Unit is doing all we can to solve this recent rash of crimes. We've carefully worked each scene, identified three of the four victims, and followed up on every minor lead we had. The department is doing its best. We hate thinking any Rochesterian is a potential victim or suspect." _We don't even know who or what is the source of the attacks,_ I thought to myself. "We _will_ solve this case. That's all for tonight. If anything is processed at the crime scene, it will be released to the media."

I'd had enough for one day. I was an investigator with nothing to do. I was literally clueless. We'd try and see if we could find something all the victims had it common—public library cards, all law clerks, or all went to the same Podunk high school, because most serial killers weren't random, they targeted people with the same jobs, race, sex, something!

I bid my fellow detectives goodnight and drove home, stopping at the corner liquor store on the way. I bought an inexpensive bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

I parked my car under the same busted light I'd parked under for the last eighteen months and climbed the outdoor stairwell to my apartment. I'd recently moved from an apartment in the middle of the building to one on the outside wall. I was afraid my crazy hours and hectic schedule was keeping my neighbors awake, and I tried to be respectful and considerate of them.

I jiggled the key in the lock and stepped inside my apartment, tossing my briefcase on the couch. I stepped out of my shoes and removed my badge and gun belt, hanging them on the same rack that had hung in my childhood home.

I slouched into the chair nearest the TV and popped open the wine, drowning my frustration in the bottle. I hoped the nightmares wouldn't come tonight.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to Scorp112 and Duskwater from Project Team Beta for looking over this chapter and offering their suggestions.

And thanks to anyone who reads this, please review!


	2. Beautiful Disaster

**Thank you for the favoriting and kind comments so far! Here's the second chapter!**

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I awoke to the sensation of something firm and large poking into my backside. I smiled under the covers and wondered if I'd gotten lucky the night before and made it home with someone. But I was disappointed to find an empty wine bottle pressing against my ass.

I smacked my lips open and closed, desperate for some kind of moisture. My mouth felt, and tasted like I'd licked the dust off the Venetian blinds that I never opened. I pushed the green sleep mask off my face and reached for the wine bottle beneath the covers. I raised it to my lips, upending it, hoping one drop of liquid remained.

It didn't.

_Shit_.

I squinted against the grey daylight seeping in around the window, my brow wrinkling unattractively under the even less attractive sleep mask that had bunched up on my forehead. The stupid daylight made me realize I had a _raging_ headache.

I desperately wanted one of the banana milkshakes my mother used to make and to sleep, oh, another seventeen hours, but I knew I stood no chance in hell of falling back into slumber. I cut my losses and dragged myself out of bed.

Despite the threat of rain, an hour later I found myself at the local coffee house picking apart a bagel and drinking my third latte. I wore the darkest glasses I could find, pounded half a dozen painkillers and decided the fresh air might do me some good. I bought a newspaper on my way and grabbed a small table outside the café.

Needless to say, the headline and accompanying picture did nothing to ease my stomach or aching head. On the front page of the paper was my picture with Tyler and Mike at last night's crime scene. My hair was ridiculously limp and stringy, my eyes had dark circles underneath, and the headline read "Anyone is a Victim"—a serious misquote from my spiel to the press.

I was surprised the chief hadn't called me in yet. Maybe he'd skipped reading the morning paper today? _Yeah right_.

I chucked my glasses down on the table, landing right in the middle of a glop of cream cheese from my bagel. Nice. I voraciously read the article, looking for any other misquotes in the process. The article went on to spout some generalizations about serial killers, but thankfully it wasn't too sensational.

I folded the newspaper and intentionally whacked myself over the head with it. Punishment. Next time I would choose my words more carefully.

Tossing the paper down on the table, I brushed the stray hairs from my eyes as I cursed my own fear and inexperience with the media. The hair on my neck and arms stood up and, having an eerie sense someone was watching me, I lifted my head and looked around the café, shocked to find a pair of eyes staring right at me.

A young man sat alone inside the café, staring out through the front window toward the patio where I sat. He was the kind of sinfully handsome man that made your heart flutter and the muscles in your stomach clench in arousal; so positively beautiful that he _must_ be imagined, unreal. His dark eyes were rimmed by purple circles—as if he got even less sleep than me—and his stare penetrated my gaze, disrupting my obvious leering. He was unnaturally pale and he had the most unusual bronze hair styled in perfect disarray; he kind of hair you could just imagine running your fingers through in the throes of passion. At first, he smirked, as if he could read my progressively dirty thoughts, but abruptly the smile faded and his face bore an almost quizzical, frustrated expression as a thin line formed between his eyebrows. I turned and looked over each shoulder, unsure if he was looking at me or not, but due to the clouds and impending rain, there was no one else out here but me. I wondered vaguely if we'd met before, but I'd remember a face and body like that.

Hanging over the edge of his table, pressed against the window, was the same edition of the newspaper I had. Clearly he'd been reading it. Maybe he'd recognized my stupid picture on the front page—that would explain the strange expression.

_Or maybe he was trying to remember his grocery list, Bella. Jesus, get a grip_.

Slightly discomforted by his odd, unblinking gaze, I reached out blindly for the paper. I'd rather resume my reading than be stared at, or maybe I was making a half-hearted attempt at being coy. But I shouldn't act coy, because I wasn't good at that shit. I accidentally knocked my cup of coffee over, spilling it across the table.

"Shit!" I hissed, jumping to my feet and grabbing the now wet newspaper.

I let the coffee drip off the paper, shaking the excess onto the pavement. I made to step around the legs of the wrought iron chair when I caught my foot on the leg and barely caught myself before spilling _myself_ onto the pavement.

I could feel my face burning as I looked up to see if anyone had seen me. The young man inside the café had his hand pressed over his mouth, but I could clearly see the uplifted corners of his lips, raising the apples of his cheeks.

_Great job, Bella, the cute, albeit weird guy checks you out and you dick it up!_

I closed my eyes as I silently cursed myself. That's why I stayed away from good looking guys. I couldn't be cute, girly, or graceful enough either. I threw away the soggy paper and decided to cut my losses for the day. I would get a refill on my coffee and return home to bed. Home is where I should have stayed in the first place. Yeah, that's right, I was running home with my tail between my legs.

Putting on my brave face and my big girl panties, I re-entered the café, empty cup in hand. I was determined to ignore the only patron. I asked the barista for a refill and made a conscious effort to keep my eyes cast down.

As I waited for my grande, double shot, skinny, vanilla latte, curiosity got the better of me. I casually turned and leaned against the counter, eager to see what the café's other patron was doing.

I instantly wished I hadn't.

The hot guy looked anything but hot as he stared me down from across the café. He looked positively furious. Evil. His gaze was cold, his brow furrowed in intensity, and lips curled back to reveal bright, white teeth. His chest heaved from breathlessness.

The newspaper was still clenched in his hand.

_What the fuck?_

I pressed my back further against the counter, too fearful to turn away. Behind me the machines whirred loudly, brewing coffee and frothing milk. The barista disappeared in a billow of steam. She didn't hear me gasp.

He suddenly looked inhuman standing perfectly still, only his chest heaving. I couldn't fathom what was wrong with him. Was he mentally disturbed? Having some sort of fit or seizure?

The sound of my pulse thundered in my ears, and my breathing was ragged. My shoulders trembled and my arms shook. My service gun was at home on my shelf, but my father's old snub nose .38 took up permanent residence in my purse—which was on the counter behind me. I had a weapon. I could defend myself.

But I was frozen.

My training was forgotten. I was not a cop—I was a scared girl suffering from long-repressed post-traumatic stress disorder.

"Miss?"

I jumped at the sound of the barista's voice and spun around, terrified to turn my back on the young man. The girl stood with my coffee in her hand, no sign of distress on her face.

"Here ya go."

I heard the chime on the door behind me, and I twisted around to find the café empty, the door slowly coming to a close.

The guy was nowhere to be found.

I had turned about instantly; he should have been nearby still. The café's patio was large and quite unobstructed, and yet there was no trace of him.

I returned my attention to the barista. "The young man that was just here, do you know him?"

She rolled her eyes from behind rectangular, tortoise-shell frames. "You mean Dr. Cullen's son, the cheapskate? He never buys anything, but sometimes he comes in to read the paper if it's quiet or listen to music. He's totally weird."

"Yeah, weird," I replied, taking my coffee with a trembling hand. The waitress took notice and arched her eyebrows. "Sorry. Jitters," I lied.

Cautiously, I walked toward the exit and peered outside. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, so I proceeded.

Dr. Cullen's son. _A medical doctor or an academic?_ I wondered vaguely as I walked down the sidewalk, keeping my wits about me.

Despite the guy's initial handsome façade, his odd behavior had caused my intuition to flicker. He had been reading about the murders and had definitely seen my picture in conjunction with the article. He had appeared normal when I kept my distance, but when I got nearer, he had snapped.

Often, serial killers kept tokens from their victims, revisited the crime scene, or closely followed the stories in the media. I had no idea if the young man had anything to do with the crime, but his behavior had been odd for sure. I'd always been taught to trust my instinct. It wouldn't hurt to follow up on young Mr. Cullen.

Instead of going home, I went in to the station. I didn't care that it was supposed to be my day off, that I had a hangover, or that I wore worn out yoga pants with a hole in the left ass cheek, or that I looked like hell. Curiosity had always gotten the better of me, and I couldn't bear not knowing the answers, especially if they were at my disposal.

I ignored comments and greetings from my co-workers, avoided Newton altogether, and plopped down at the computer in my cubicle.

I repeated the name 'Cullen' like a mantra while I waited for my computer to boot up. I bit the edge of my nail, eyes darting nervously around the confined area.

The wide, yellow spine of the phone book captured my attention. I rose abruptly, grabbing the directory before slumping back down and cracking it open. My fingers fumbled with the thin, onion-peel-like pages, tearing them accidently in my haste to turn them.

I flipped from the Gs back to the Bs, and then forward to the Ds before thumbing the pages back.

Cz.

Cy.

Cu.

My eyes and fingers traced up the page until I found it.

Cullen, Carlisle, Dr.

There was a residential address and a phone number, but no office. So either he was an academic or didn't have a practice.

There were forty-one other Cullens listed; any number of them could have been children or even grandchildren if he was old enough to have an adult son. It's not like I could call each one and say "Hello, do any hot, young men with a propensity for scaring young women in coffee shops live here? No? Oh, that's your cousin Jim. Thanks!"

The welcome screen for the Rochester Police Department finally greeted me, and I logged in.

I quickly searched for the doctor's name in the database—if he had so much as a speeding ticket in recent years, it would show up on his record.

The computer instantly kicked back a 'No Such Inquiry' result, and I pressed my lips together, my forehead wrinkling as I frowned in response.

Okay then, broader search.

I just typed in Cullen and clicked Enter, hoping something promising would show up.

Two results were found, a Jeanette M. Cullen for an MIP, and a George L. Cullen for a traffic violation. A picture accompanied the entry, it was definitely not the man from the café.

I sighed in exasperation, leaning back in my chair. This wasn't exactly a dead end, just a stumbling block. I would have to get creative, that's all.

Angela's head popped over the wall of my cubicle suddenly, startling me. "Hey, somebody said you were here. Isn't today your day off?"

I forced myself to swallow; I was sure my heart had leapt up to my throat. Evidently, you could add paranoid schizophrenia to the list of ailments I suffered from. Honestly, it's not as if he'd march into the Police Department to 'get me.' Next thing you know I'd be having dreams about the boogeyman or something. And now Angela was staring at me like I was a complete idiot. "Um, yeah, it is. Hey, Ang, you're originally from the area, right?"

She leaned against my desk and nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Do you know a Dr. Cullen?" I hedged, not meeting her curious gaze.

"Doctor Carlisle? Sure. He works at the hospital. Great doctor. The whole family is pretty cool actually. He and Mrs. Cullen donate to a lot of local causes. They adopted all their kids too."

"What's he like?" I asked as I instantly imagined a kind, gentle older man whose kids had run amok.

"Frankly? Hot."

Okay, this totally didn't fit with my image of the old man who probably still wore headgear with the little circular mirror on it as he stood in front of you with a tongue depressor and said, "Say ahh."

"Is he old?" I blurted out, perhaps a little too loud.

Angela laughed, her eyes crinkling behind the frames of her glasses. "Hardly. Our age, maybe? Maybe a few years older. His kids are all grown now."

Now we were finally getting to where I wanted the conversation to be at. "What are the kids like? Did you know any of them?"

She opened her mouth and made to speak, but then interrupted herself. "What is this about?"

I told her the truth, sort of. "I don't know. I saw one of the doctor's sons today, and he behaved so strangely."

"Well, they do keep to themselves a lot. And there's the business of them all intermarrying or whatever."

I had no idea what Angela meant by 'whatever,' but I could tell she was uncomfortable with gossiping about them in this capacity. She took a deep breath, and I settled in for what I knew would be an enlightening conversation.

"I'm going to preface this by stating that none of the Cullen's kids are actually related to one another," she began, and I nodded my head in understanding, not wanting to interrupt her. "When Mrs. Cullen and the Doctor got married, she had already taken in her niece and nephew—Rosalie and Jasper. She and the doctor adopted the other three kids—Emmett, Alice, and Edward. I think they were originally taken in as foster kids from wherever they lived before they came to Rochester. Rosalie and Emmett are married now, and so are Alice and Jasper. I suppose it's not all that odd if they never saw one another as siblings. What's stranger is that they married so early, I guess—like right out of high school."

I frowned, confused. "So how old are they? How do you know them?" This is when I wished I'd lived in Rochester my whole life instead of hot-ass Arizona and Florida. I didn't know many of the locals; I'd only been here a year. Was it strange? My parents married straight out of high school, but I suppose that was more than twenty years ago. I didn't have many good friends, so I wasn't really sure if that was abnormal or not. Did it matter?

"I don't really know. No more than twenty or twenty one? We're from the same burb. My younger brothers went to school with them, and frankly their relationships created a bit of a buzz." Angela looked down, clearly uncomfortable again. "The doctor always supports the Policeman's Ball too."

My mind was just reeling. So they didn't live in the city itself, but man, the family seemed to be really well known. I personally had nothing against marriage, but wasn't it a bit odd in this day and age for couples to marry quite this young?

"So which one did you see today?" Angela asked as she twisted her hair in a bun and secured it with an ink pen from my desk.

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, still not ready to share my theory. "I'm not sure. Six foot maybe, 160 pounds, reddish brown hair." I realized it sounded like I was describing a suspect instead of the cute guy I'd seen getting coffee this morning.

A smile twitched at Angela's lips. "That would be Edward. He was a freshman in college when I graduated last year. He's in Laboratory Medicine too."

I paused, hoping not to sound too eager or suspicious, but inside alarm bells were going off.

"So he's interested in Forensics?"

Angela shrugged. "I guess, I think he's more into the research aspect, Dr. Cullen being his dad and all."

This was all too strange. Cullen had more than a basic knowledge of medicine, anatomy, forensics; he obviously had a fucking temper, and was following the case. I had absolutely no concrete reason to name him a suspect, but his behavior was odd at best—and I didn't want to think about the 'at worst' variable.

"Why do you ask?" Angela asked skeptically, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Did he hit on you?"

I snorted, but briefly entertained the possibility of a date with Edward Cullen—you know, _before_ he flipped out on me. "No. I saw him at the coffee shop today near my place, and I thought he looked interesting."

She waggled her eyebrows. "Ah, so did _you_ hit on _him_?"

_No, I pretty much forgot all my training and stood there nearly pissing myself when he looked at me like a fucking serial killer_.

"Nah. He just caught my eye is all." It was a serious understatement. He was fuckhot.

"Bummer. You should have asked him out. My brothers told me all the girls fawned all over him at school and even one of the teachers asked him out." She smirked.

I rolled my eyes. He didn't sound like the type that found me interesting at all. No, I occasionally got hit on by old lecherous guys, or guys who got all macho when they discovered I was a cop. There were no second dates or booty calls after they found out about the nightmares and my tendency toward emo and morbidity.

"Eh, maybe next time, Ang," I replied eventually.

She smiled, ever the personal cheerleader. "Okay. I gotta go, I'm expecting some test results back."

She squeezed my shoulder on the way out. I didn't exactly cringe, but I was unaccustomed to much personal contact. I kept shit like that to a minimum—there was less chance of getting hurt. But as she walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if I'd had a friend like Angela back then.

My gaze returned to the open phone book and to Dr. Cullen's entry. I quickly jotted the address down on a scrap of paper and put the directory away.

Could I go to the Cullen house alone? Just the look on Edward's face had made me forget all the self-defense training my mom and the doctors made me take. I swallowed back my fear and stood up, looking over at Mike's cubicle.

"Hey, Newt, you working tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

I hated relying on him, but I knew I could count on Mike. "Want to go on a call with me in the morning?"

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**_Author's Note:_** The plot thickens!

Evenstar from Twilighted made me a gorgeous banner for Cold Case File. I'll post a link on my profile if you're interested.

Special thanks to LittleMissMione and SandiCarr from PTB for beta-ing this chapter. All remaining mistakes belong to me.


	3. Stone Cold

Newton was fucking late, as usual, and his tardiness just caused me to grow more nervous and pissed off.

I didn't sleep well the night before; the same old nightmares kept waking me up in a cold sweat. That shrink I had back then was a crackpot and full of shit. The dreams never went away. I never got 'desensitized' to them. They were still as vivid as ever. Sometimes I went days without quality sleep and often resorted to drinking myself silly or taking sleeping pills just to give myself a few hours of crappy, dreamless slumber.

Mike strolled in with coffee and came straight to my cubicle. "So what's up? Where are we going?"

I growled and looked down at my watch. The asshole shrugged in response, a smile playing at his lips. The exchange gave me a minute to think; I didn't even know how to preface my thoughts. Frankly, I didn't even know what I was going to say to the doctor or Edward, or how I was going to convince Newton I hadn't gone off the deep end with my crackpot theories. I had nothing but intuition and coincidence to go on. I was basically hoping to get to the house and see or hear something suspicious, or catch one of them in an outright lie, so I could legitimately question him.

I didn't want to say much to Mike; I could see him taking charge of the situation and scaring away my only lead.

"I want to go over to the Cullen's and talk to the doctor and his son. They have medical and forensic backgrounds, maybe they've thought of something we haven't." I tried to make the suggestion seem natural and nonchalant, but I knew I was grasping at straws, and that he'd call me out on it.

He made a Bronx cheer and waved me off. "C'mon, Swan, we've got a great forensic team—they're the best. I mean, I'm sure the doc is great, but don't you think he'd come forward if he thought of something that might help a murder investigation?"

I scowled, feeling the lines forming on my brow. "Probably, and I _know_ our Tech Unit is the best, but my goddamn conscience can't bear the lack of progress anymore. We've got four families awaiting a conviction—hell, an arrest—in the murder of their loved ones. It won't hurt to seek out the doctor's opinion."

Mike raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "So, what, you're going to give him details of the case? Swan, that's against protocol."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Did he think I was a dumbass? "No, just what's already out there in the media. Look, Newton, if you don't want to ride along, I'll ask Crowley." I folded my arms and waited, knowing full well that he couldn't resist someone else stealing his thunder.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, I'll go."

Thirty minutes later, Mike and I turned off the main highway near Lake Lakoma and drove down a long, narrow, private road. Weaving through the trees, the driveway eventually gave way to a vast clearing where a large, colonial home stood strong and proud, and tall firs and swaying birches dotted the property. The lawn was beautifully manicured and the flowerbeds featured perfect rosebushes with the open blossoms stretching upward toward the bright sun. As Mike advanced up the drive that bowed into a half-circle before the house, my heart rate accelerated, and I was almost overcome by my own nerves. I nearly told him to turn around, but the hope that those cases could be solved was insatiable.

I just didn't know what I would find inside this house.

He stopped the car at the apex of the drive. "Ready?"

I nodded affirmatively, gathering the manila folder with some evidence photos and reports. I didn't know how much info I would be able to give the doctor, but I needed to keep up with the charade.

As I climbed out of Newton's car, I noticed the utter silence on the property. The wind was still, no birds called, and the house appeared as closed up as a tomb despite the beautiful and sunny late summer day.

We walked up the sidewalk lined with petunias toward the front door. Mike stepped up on the flagstone porch, ringing the bell. My heart was in my damn throat, and I counted the seconds since Mike pressed the doorbell.

One one-thousand.

Two one-thousand.

Three one-thousand.

Four—

Before I got to five, the door opened, and a young couple stood well inside the threshold. I tried to identify them in my mind based on the minimal information Angela had given me. I was still expecting to see the old man with the old-fashioned headband and mirror, but these people were too young to be parents to adult children! Both of them were insanely beautiful, like Edward, and immaculately dressed in something from a summer collection designer runway show. The doctor wore a crisp white oxford and navy pants, and the woman at his elbow was wearing a wrap dress with butterfly sleeves. They bore mildly curious expressions behind their gold eyes as though they'd mistaken a song lyric or the name of a book.

"Yes?" the man questioned, the tone of his voice barely acknowledging the question he asked.

I forced myself to swallow as I tore my eyes away from the golden gaze that was so unlike his son's. Nevertheless, because of his unnaturally good looks and uniquely colored irises, I had no doubt that I was at the right house?

"A-are you Dr. Carlisle Cullen?" I stammered, fighting to drag my gaze away from his. Jesus, how old was I, five? This wasn't my first day of kindergarten, I was a cop. I had to pull some inner strength from somewhere and grow a set of ovaries.

"Yes." His answer was oddly affirmative, unquestioning. Most people answered with a cautious, guarded "_Yes?_"

"I'm Detective Swan, this is Detective Newton, we're from the Rochester P.D. We were wondering if we could step inside and ask you a few questions."

"Of course," the doctor answered calmly, smiling as if I were a Girl Scout asking him to buy fucking cookies, instead of a detective asking to come into his home for questioning.

He and the woman stepped back as they opened the door and invited us inside. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Esme," he said, gesturing to the beautiful brunette at his side. I was a sucker for old movies, and she looked like Rita Hayworth with her soft, caramel-colored waves. Her smile was welcoming and her eyes were kind. I nodded in polite reply. Mike ogled.

We stepped past the foyer and were politely ushered into a formal living room where four other people sat in quiet repose. They didn't look up when we entered the room, keeping their statuesque poses.

Two men played chess in the back corner; both were leaning quite far over the board, calculating their next move. Two women also occupied the room—a blonde leafing lazily through a fashion magazine and a brunette drumming her fingers on her knee as she listened to an iPod.

The scene was perfect, too perfect, as though a photographer had set up the perfect fucking scene of an idyllic, modern, suburban life. Even the players were ideal; their beauty was just ungodly lovely.

Instantly, I noticed that Edward was nowhere to be seen.

"Please come in," the doctor said, gesturing for us to sit in any of the remaining seats on the plush, beige couches. "Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, and Alice, this is Detective Swan and Detective Newton. Detectives, these are our adopted children."

I smiled nervously, surprised when they all looked up at the same moment. Four pairs of amber, lamp-like eyes, appraising me.

"G-good morning." I stammered as Newton and I took a seat on the edge of the loveseat. Christ, the five-year-old was back. Would I always be just a scared little girl?

Each of them politely smiled, nodded, or replied, no sign of concern or curiosity on their faces whatsoever. As if it were every day that a detective visited their home. They excused themselves without being asked, filing out of the formal sitting room one after another.

_This was so strange!_

"How can we help you today, Detectives?" Dr. Cullen asked, sitting on the arm of the couch while Esme stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders.

I swallowed and looked around, taking in the drawn curtains with a furrowed brow. Who closes the curtains on a sunny day? The atmosphere was tense and awkward. Damn Newton was always a big mouth, why was he quiet as a tomb today?

"Well, Detective Newton and I are investigating the serial murders here in Rochester, and we wondered if perhaps we could speak to you and your son."

The doctor didn't react at all. No sign of surprise or shock, no denial at being able to help—nothing. Were they just that weird? It was like they'd been tipped off or knew each question I was about to ask! Hell, some people would have demanded a lawyer by this point!

"Which son would that be?" he finally asked, his eyes darting toward the stairs to the home's second story.

"Edward," I replied, my eyes shifting down to the folder in my lap and back to his gaze. I wondered if he lived here as there was no listing for an Edward Cullen in the phone book; I'd looked last night when I couldn't sleep. "I understand he has some forensic knowledge and your medical background might be helpful too."

There was no dawning of realization upon his face, no understanding that he was not being questioned as a suspect. I don't know what I expected: relief, confusion, curiosity, some emotion to flicker across his countenance, but there was nothing! Stone fucking cold.

Esme disappeared wordlessly and ascended the stairs.

Carlisle nodded as if in agreement with our proposal. "Why don't we meet in the dining room?"

He led us through the house; each room was immaculate and beautifully decorated, and I couldn't help but gawk a little. It was the kind of home everyone dreamt of owning one day.

I traipsed into the dining room behind the doctor and passed by the chair he'd pulled away from the table.

"Detective Swan," he said politely, showing his genteel manners. Both the tone of his voice and the extended chair at the head of the table indicated where I should sit.

I blushed instantly as I plopped down in the chair I'd already taken for myself. "Erm, sorry, sir," I mumbled, as I placed the file folder in front of me, upsetting the meticulously straight table runner. It felt like my face was on fire. Why didn't I just take the proffered chair?

The doctor's face fell, and he was left slack-jawed. The expression didn't fit his beautiful face somehow; perhaps he wasn't surprised often, or accustomed to a serious lack of manners by his guests. If possible, I felt even worse for my faux pas.

"Hey, thanks, Doc!" Newton replied, clapping him on the shoulder as he took the chair that was intended for me.

I quickly smoothed the runner as the doctor attempted to mask his shock or offense or whatever it was, and contemplate where he should sit.

I had done a pretty decent job of keeping my fear at bay so far. It was unfounded really, what did I honestly think this Edward guy would have done yesterday? It wasn't like he'd attack me in a coffee shop. What was he going to do, throttle me with a newspaper? He didn't even have hot coffee to throw in my face. And even though I wasn't sure if I would meet Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde today, the son of a prominent doctor wasn't going to attack two armed officers in the family home. Right?

I anticipated the creak of a stair, shuffling feet, or hushed whispers to announce Edward's entrance to the room, but the silence that accompanied him troubled me even more than his pitiless expression did.

His eyes did not meet mine when I looked up at him, my heart racing, and breath shallow.

Instead, he looked at his father, the anger evident in his expression. Nevertheless, he was still absolutely beautiful. A dark angel. The scowl looked so out of place in the beautiful home. Anyone who lived here had no reason to sulk.

Without a word, Edward seated himself across from me and sighed as his hand covered his eyes and his fingers squeezed his temples. I took the opportunity to simply stare at him as he hid behind his folded hands. His skin was just as pale as I remembered it, the same purple half moons under his eyes, and the same hair I was dying to sink my fingers into.

My heart was fairly racing now, and I wouldn't be surprised if others in the dining room could hear it. I was like a damn pre-pubescent girl.

"Detectives Swan and Newton, this is my son, Edward. Edward, these officers are investigating the recent serial murders in town and were wondering if our expertise might be helpful."

I was glad for the doctor's introduction, because what the hell was I going to say? _Um, I saw your kid at the café yesterday, and he scared the living bejesus out of me, so I invented this cockamamie plan to investigate your family._

"Surely the RPD is most capable of solving the case on their own," Edward replied sullenly, folding his hands as his eyes zoned in on the tabletop. His voice was smooth and drawled in all the right places.

I bristled a little. Of course we were capable of solving the case. We were also smart enough to use all available resources, especially if it helped net a criminal who may or may not be sitting at this table.

My infinitesimal strength and confidence were gone suddenly, and I stumbled to find my voice.

"T-the d-department is not above seeking outside assistance if it helps keep Rochesterians safe and ends this rash of violence, Mr. Cullen. If you don't wish to participate, that is well within your rights."

I paused, waiting for him to look up or offer some smart ass reply. None came.

"The cases are obviously confidential, but perhaps you have thoughts on the opinions on the television reporting or the _newspaper_," I said, stressing the last word and arching my eyebrow at Edward.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, as I'm sure you've deduced, based on skill, this isn't a first time murderer. Perhaps checking outside Rochester might be helpful."

I nodded. "That obvious experience is what makes things difficult. We've found no clues. No DNA, no hairs, no tire tracks." I felt I was walking a fine line with disclosure, but I pressed on. "Based on those results alone, we couldn't even say whether or not the crime was committed by a human or an animal."

I carefully opened the file folder and slid out a close-up of the gashes across our most recent victim's back.

"Have either of you seen an injury like this?" I questioned, my eyes directed at Edward as I slid the photo across the table.

His expression was stoic, and his fists were clenched atop the table. Did I expect him to react? I wasn't sure. He had obvious forensic science experience, but graphic imagery often caused unconscious reactions from the body. Even veteran officers winced, arched their eyebrows, or averted their gaze at grizzly photos.

Edward studied the photo for only a moment. I waited for him to blink or for his breathing to increase, or his hands to shake as if he was nervous. He never did.

He passed the photo down to his father, but my eyes never left him. His gaze finally shifted, and he looked over the table at me. His body was rigid, and the shining obsidian gaze I had been expecting was replaced by a flat, lifeless shade of brown now, but the intensity or beauty of his countenance had not changed. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and I fucking hated him for it. His eyes were black yesterday. I know they were, there was no question in my mind, and it wasn't an experience I'd soon forget. I'd learned to see the small details in people, and those eyes were unresponsive and blank.

Though I was momentarily confused by the color change of his eyes, I couldn't help but be overcome by his good looks. His skin was unnaturally pale, like my old dermatologist who I was sure had never seen the sun, but it suited him; it was sophisticated. _Okay, maybe I just said that to feel better about my own pale skin_. His cheekbones would feel positively exquisite under my fingertips, the bow of his lips was begging to be sucked and kissed, and the smooth column of his throat was begging to be nipped at and bitten. I felt my nipples harden in response to my thoughts and a growing moisture and a familiar ache between my legs. Terrified or not, my body could not help but react to him and I would have let him take me right here on this table with this odd family in the house.

Out of nowhere, Edward took a shuddering gasp and looked up at me again before swallowing compulsively and gritted his teeth tight. His hands fell into his lap and gripped the tops of his thighs. His eyes were focused and never left me, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking about and what my body's lustful reaction to him was. I felt ungodly self-conscious and dirty. I squeezed my thighs tightly together and picked at my fingernails, peeking up through my lashes at Edward. He looked equally as pissed as he did in the café the day before.

If I hadn't known better I would have thought the poor kid was having a stroke or a seizure.

"Edward, do you need to be excused?" the doctor asked, making to stand, his eyes full of the utmost concern.

His head snapped in his father's direction, anger clearly clawing to get through the mask of calm he was trying like hell to portray.

"I'm fine," he hissed through gritted teeth, dropping his gaze once again.

I quickly looked over at Newton to appraise his reaction to the scene and was furious to see him with his phone out, texting someone with a shit-eating grin on his face.

The doctor coughed, gaining my attention once again as he turned the photo to get a better look. "Well, it's obviously from a poly-dactyl creature. Something with at least four digits or claws. That rules some in or out."

I nodded. We weren't looking for a fucking rabid three-toed sloth, I knew that much. I was frustrated that the doctor didn't say any more, but just studied the image.

"Did they all have the same injuries?"

I was shocked to hear _his_ voice break the silence, and my eyes slowly shifted to meet him. The tone of his voice sounded like he was making conversation about the latest episode of CSI instead of a real murder investigation.

"Y-yes. Most were approximately the same depth and length. Some have five claw marks though. All five marks don't always show, depending on where the injury was."

"There's no way a normal human made those," Doctor Cullen offered, looking at Edward and shaking his head before sliding the photo back across the table.

I knew that, and it was damn frustrating because my intuition still flickered around this kid across from me. Something wasn't right with him. Maybe I needed to separate my feelings of suspicion and my gut instinct that the kid was weird. Maybe my instinct was just broken, or I was fucking crazy. It was some Freddy Kruger-like shit from a bad horror movie.

Silence resurfaced, and I bit at my lip debating telling them both that the throats were ripped out of most of our victims, but I refrained. That would be crossing a line.

I'd come here for nothing. I _had _nothing. I don't know what I'd hoped for, but I thought he'd have an outburst or panic or freak the fuck out and yell at me for accusing him or some shit, but he didn't. He was composed and helpful, even in his distance and weirdness. Weirdos weren't necessarily criminals, I knew that. I'd trusted my gut, and I failed.

"Thanks for looking." I sighed. "If you think of anything that might be helpful, please call us."

I dug into the badge holder around my neck and retrieved a business card, sliding it across the table to the doctor. "Thanks for your time."

Dr. Cullen folded his hands. "I'm sorry we couldn't help more."

I rose, prompting Edward and the doctor to stand as well. Mike tucked his phone back into his pocket and stumbled to his feet.

Without giving it much thought, I walked around the table, passing Edward in the process. He inhaled sharply again and gripped the back of the chair. I was mortified at the thought that he could smell my arousal. Furthermore, was he turned on or repulsed?

Repulsed, obviously.

The doc escorted us to the door. I casually looked over my shoulder to keep track of Edward, but he was gone. Again, I hadn't heard his movements. He must have slipped up the back stairs.

We said our goodbye and walked back to the car. I was more frustrated than before, and much of my frustration was focused inward.

I'd totally embarrassed myself today, as a cop and a woman. Was I losing my touch? Should I continue to trust my instincts? Was I positively paranoid?

"I'll give you this, Swan," Mike said as we buckled our seatbelts and he started the car. "The Cullens are a bunch of weird-asses, especially that kid."

My eyes widened. "You think so?" I asked, surprised and relieved.

"Mm-hmm. I think he wants to get in your pants."

I blushed. Mike was always blunt; he said what was on his mind, and he evidently didn't think the Cullens were suspicious.

"Sorry, Swanny, I think it's back to the drawing board."

hr

**Author's Note:** epic thanks to mycrookedsmile and Scorp112 from Project Team Beta for their hard work!

Thanks for all the reads and reviews. I really appreciate your feedback and comments. Please click that review button, that's the only 'payment' a fic author gets! 3

Next up we'll hear from Edward! He'll pop in every few chapters and tell us what he thinks of things. ;-)


	4. My Name is Trouble

Carlisle and I stood motionless as the door closed behind the two detectives.

"Sorry, Swanny; I think it's back to the drawing board."

I let out a breath and slouched against the door. Being a vampire might be absolutely useless, but hearing the thoughts of those around you was damn helpful at times. Detective Newton suspected nothing; his one-track mind was too busy thinking about fucking anything that moved—his wife, Detective Swan, my mother and sisters. But I had no idea what Detective Swan thought, and my family was counting on me to tell them. Better than my mind reading, was Alice's ability to see the future. We'd known the detectives were coming today, thank Christ. I popped out the brown contacts Esme had the sense to tell me to put in and waited. A fight was coming.

The rest of the family slowly descended the stairs as the detectives' footsteps retreated from the house. We finally heard the opening and closing of car doors before the engine revved, and they drove away.

Then the growling started.

Within a single instant, six vampires rounded on me. Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper were in my face, all snarling loudly.

"Could you be any weirder?"

"You ass! You just gave her everything she needs to deepen her investigation of us!"

"You endangered us all."

My lip curled back in a sneer, but I held my ground while they loomed over me.

Amidst the yelling, I could hear Esme pleading for everyone to calm down before Carlisle finally pushed through the crowd and grabbed my shoulders.

His kind, patient face filled my field of vision; he would cast no blame on me for today's visit.

"Edward, are we in any danger of being under investigation?" Carlisle asked, trying to maintain his façade of calm.

Of course, Carlisle would refer to us collectively. He wouldn't single me out as the source of trouble. He gave my shoulders a supportive squeeze as he raised his eyebrows in expectation of my answer.

"I-I don't know."

The moment of silence was anticlimactic; however, this time I knew the yelling would follow.

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?" Rosalie snapped. "Isn't that what you do? Invade people's thoughts?"

Usually? Yes, I did have that ability to hear others' thoughts, but I'd hit my first anomaly when I'd encountered the good detective. The truth was about to come out, and I knew I would not feel better unburdening myself. "I haven't been completely honest regarding my introduction to Detective Swan."

_That was an understatement._

Carlisle dropped a hand from my shoulder, and I instantly felt shame for having disappointed him again, and for lying to my family. They'd done their part and welcomed me back in the fold, and I hadn't been able to uphold my end of the bargain.

"Why don't we sit down?" he suggested with a heavy sigh. I didn't need to read his mind to know he didn't recommend it for comfort. _Maybe everyone will just relax if we sit down_. I knew he felt some responsibility about today. He'd tried to keep the detective as far away from me as possible earlier, but it had backfired splendidly.

I caught the glares, exasperated huffs, and pitiful expressions as I moved to sit next to Carlisle at the head of the table. Esme took the seat across from me where Detective Swan had sat only moments ago, while Alice took the seat next to me, linking her arm through mine in a demonstration of camaraderie.

I felt Alice's grip slip from my arm as I propped my elbows on the cherry wood table and let my head fall into my waiting hands. "I-I don't know what to say," I began.

_Always a drama queen_, Rosalie thought, knowing full well I'd be listening. Yeah, there were times when reading people's minds was positively fucking annoying.

Carlisle reached over to pat my shoulder. "Just start at the beginning."

I didn't even understand the beginning, and I'd lied about everything thereafter.

"I went to get a newspaper yesterday. I'm not sure why, I just felt restless—a compulsion to go into town. Instead of grabbing a paper from the bookstore and returning home, I sat in the late-morning quiet of the café to read."

I hadn't hunted in a while, and felt edgy as I drove into town. I needed some piano wire, and I was interested in how the Rochester Police Department was dealing with the serial murders in the city. Naturally, I knew exactly what was going on. I was intrigued by the young detective on the case. I had seen her on the news the night before and was captivated by her intelligence, composure, and her resolve.

I had been so engrossed in my reading that I failed to notice I was no longer alone at the cafe. To say I was surprised to see the object of my newfound curiosity right in front of me was an understatement.

"Detective Swan was sitting outside on the patio, reading." I bypassed the part about her eye-fucking me and spilling her coffee. I had been so enchanted with _watching_ her, that I had no idea I couldn't _hear_ her. Her face had been so animated. She scowled as she read the article about the case, her lips pouting, her brow furrowing. Each time she swept a loose lock of hair behind her ear, I licked my lips watching her fingertips caress the mahogany tresses. It drew my attention to her enticing neck and the creamy, white skin that flowed into her décolletage. Seeing the narrow expanse of skin above the waist of her pants and the tight curve of her ass when she jumped out of her chair after she spilled the coffee was enough to put my mind into a tailspin of delusional thoughts. I imagined curling my fingers around her hipbones and drawing them toward mine. I should have been ashamed, but I wasn't. "When she entered the café, I felt like I had been slammed, and I was overwhelmed, by the scent of her. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced."

It wasn't just the sweet, floral bouquet of her blood that called to me, but I could just imagine how exquisite she would taste, my face buried between her thighs, parting her folds with my tongue. The urge was so primal and possessive. As Bella stood there in the café, frozen in fear, I imagined fulfilling my every desire with her body. The fantasy involved more than me sinking my teeth into her flesh and drinking her lifeblood. The yearning desire in my groin reminded me that I wanted to bury myself deep within her while my teeth punctured her carotid artery, so I could drink my fill. Vampires rarely shared food and mates, and I would be no exception. I was thinking about where I could lure the detective so we could be alone. Thinking back on how desperately I just wanted to take her body in every way made the fact that I could sit across from her today without incident a miracle.

I'd been celibate too long.

"So I left immediately."

_At least he had the strength to leave._

I looked up in Carlisle's direction. If Carlisle only knew how much strength it had truly taken to leave. To be honest, I wasn't even sure I _could_ leave the café that day. After I'd watched her spill her coffee, and had to adjust my pants, the need to know the inner workings of her mind was insatiable. She'd hopped around the patio, trying to avoid spilling the coffee on herself, and I couldn't help but let myself smile as I watched her. She blushed the most delicious color of scarlet, and I knew that the day's exchange was not enough. It would never be enough. I wanted to know what she was thinking and where she was going. I let my mind reach out, searching for the timber of her thoughts, but I was stunned by the rebounding silence. I furrowed my brow, concentrating deeper, confused by my faulty radar. I waited, searching, listening, angered by the quiet. I scowled and looked over at the barista, watching her pick the polish off her nails. I zoned in on her mind easily.

_I wish that asshat would just buy something. What the hell does he come in here for anyway?_

So the block clearly wasn't me. I looked back at the detective, watching as she yanked open the door to the coffee house in clear frustration. I was about to flash her another smile and try reading her mind again, when my throat was alight with the flames of thirst, scorching my tongue, causing the venom to flow unimpeded, doing nothing to sooth my simmering flesh.

As Isabella Swan approached the counter, I took a step closer to her, pulled by the delicious scent of her that hung in the air. I swallowed obsessively, drinking in the sweet scent of her blood—and the rich tang of her arousal.

Had my thoughts been coherent, I would have explained away her desire as the simple, human laws of attraction that draw them to our kind. We had to entice our prey, after all, but I didn't want to want to take another human life. I hated seeing the disappointment in the corners of Carlisle's mind—the corners he thought he kept private. Moreover, I hated the way I felt about myself after I was done drinking from a human victim; the glassy, wide-eyed gaze, the grey pallor, and knowing I would have to dispose of the body. I was fighting every instinct I had to quickly close the distance between us. I was consciously aware of the two far less-appealing scents nearby, and remembered there were two insignificant baristas also in the cafe, but they were already collateral damage in my mind. I could dispose of them so quickly.

The detective turned around, sending another gust of sweetly tainted air in my direction, and my foot itched to take another step closer, just a little closer. I had never smelled anything so delicious in my existence. Ever. Had I known something so luscious was out there, I would have gone to the deep end of the ocean and back to find it. No man or woman I had ever encountered in my decades of human pursuit had smelled so appealing. I had wasted years of my subsistence drinking far less palatable alternatives that paled in comparison to this lush bouquet.

My body was coiled, ready to spring, and I could feel the tightness all the way down to my core. My limbs shook with the force of holding stock still, and my throat was alive with flames. I was consciously aware that my cock was hard; throbbing with the ache of wanting to take her and make her mine before I drank her dry.

In front of me, the beautiful detective's heart pounded furiously against her ribcage, her blood coursing rapidly through her veins, bringing a few more moments of life to her body—before I inevitably took that life away. She backed up against the counter, the fear evident on her face as her lips trembled and the adrenaline coursed through her system, igniting her fight or flight response.

I licked my lips, tasting a hint of her scent in the atmosphere. She would be delectable.

I felt the growl rumbling low in my heaving chest, the monster aching to get out and take what was right in front of it. And then I saw it—the demon reflected back at me in her eyes, and I heard her whimper. Christ, why was this so hard?

I heard the whirring of the espresso machine wind down and the barista tamp the last drips of that disgusting-smelling liquid out of the percolator. It was now or never.

I knew Carlisle would be so disappointed in me, waffling on my choice to drink an innocent girl's blood. He couldn't clean up or overlook a choice like this. Mistakes happen, yes, but I wanted to be better. I could never be like him, ever, but I wanted better than what I _was_. I hadn't been back on the wagon long enough though, and there had been 'mistakes.'

I held my breath, willing myself to forget the smell of Bella Swan's blood. The barista returned to the counter, and I took my chance and dashed out of the café at inhuman speed, not looking back.

"It was a close call," I confessed with a growl, tugging on my hair. I closed my eyes, blocking out the expressions on my family's faces. They ranged from shock and disappointment, to anger and apathy. I could ignore their appearance, but I could not ignore their thoughts radiating outward.

_He's gonna fuck up again, I just know it._

_I thought he really turned over a new leaf._

_Son, I believe in you. Be strong._

I clenched my fists, shaking with the effort of remaining calm. "It was a close call, but I'm _not_ going back to my old ways," I spat through clenched teeth.

'My old ways' was a familiar euphemism, which roughly translated to 'a few decades of hunting humans.' I wasn't proud of myself, but at the time I needed to escape from my family as three new relationships surfaced, and I was left the odd man out. It had been difficult to watch Carlisle choose a mate, but it ultimately didn't change our established relationship—he was still the father figure I never had. But when Carlisle rescued Rosalie, the intended romance with her never happened; yet she bonded with Emmett. I took it personally. I didn't want her, but a part of me wanted her to want me. I struggled for a couple decades to tolerate the newly forged relationships that I wasn't a part of. It wasn't until Jasper and Alice found us that despair truly washed over me. They were so wrapped up in each other, so content in one another, and I realized there must be something wrong with me. I had never felt so alone, like such a waste of creation, or so doomed to be alone. I kept my distance from the family and developed an, 'Oh, fuck it all' attitude rather quickly. I figured, since I was already damned to hell, I might as well earn my reputation. I was sorry, however, that I began my dark descent into hunting humans. I wasn't even sure how it had happened, but once I started… it had been impossible to stop.

I knew all six of them would have tolerated my glum outlook on life, but I couldn't bear their hope and happiness as they were all wrapped up in each other. I needed out; I needed away. I was angry and I resented every aspect of myself and the horrible half-life I'd been condemned to. I desperately wanted to explore the life I was intended to live.

Though I spent decades hunting humans, the experience didn't fulfill the emptiness I felt. For some time I hunted anyone whose blood appealed to me. Between the vampire conscience Carlisle had instilled in me, and the fact that I could hear the thoughts of those I pursued, I eventually began hunting society's scum—the corrupt, child abusers, murderers, rapists, and adulterers. It did little to ease my ethics or satisfy my appetite any more than Carlisle's lifestyle had. I was just as miserable and just as alone as I ever had been. I went months without hunting anything, attempting to purge myself of the taste for human blood. The entire occurrence left me jaded, bitter, and dark, but I was resolute to reaffirm Carlisle's way of hunting animals. It wasn't an easy change to re-adapt to, since change takes time for vampires…

"All right, so you were called by her blood; that's not unusual—we've all experienced that before. You did the right thing by leaving. What was she thinking when she saw your reaction in the café? Was she frightened?"

Oh, she was frightened all right.

I swallowed the venom that flooded my mouth at the memory of her cowering against the countertop. I knew I owed my family the truth, but that didn't mean I was comfortable sharing it. First off, I was admitting defeat; I had been bested. Second off, they weren't going to let me live it down.

"I, uh, I don't know what she was thinking. I can't read Detective Swan's mind."

It's not easy to surprise a vampire, but I'd fucking done it six times over.

Naturally, Rosalie was the first to recover, and she couldn't resist throwing the first jab. "What do you mean? I thought that was your 'thing,' mind-raping people?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, me too, but her mind—" I gestured wildly, trying to pluck the words out of space to describe the blankness and frustration I felt. "It's just empty to me—there's nothing!"

I fisted my hair, irritated, thinking back on today's exchange. I only had the reactions of her body to go on, and she was sending out some mixed fucking signals. The stammer in her voice was a sure sign of fear. The irregular heartbeat and the adrenaline rushing through her system were a little more ambivalent, but there was no mistaking the fact that she was aroused. Her panties were nearly dripping by the time she'd left here today. That had been a surprise; most women didn't have that reaction unless I dazed them a bit with the power of suggestion.

"I only have her visceral reactions to base my guess on," I offered lamely.

I had almost lost it when I caught the first hint of her excitement today. God, she was mouth watering! Between the excited rush of adrenaline-laced blood and the musky scent of her—I almost was forced to leave the table, but I didn't think I could get up.

"And we all know how her body reacted," Emmett snickered.

Jasper smirked. "Those were some intense feelings, brother."

I spun around, stunned at my brother's admission. "What? You could feel what she was feeling?" I'd foolishly assumed that because her mind was impenetrable to my abilities that she would be resistant to my sibling's gifts as well. It seems the detective was one surprise after another.

He shrugged. "Of course, but it doesn't take an empath to know what she was feeling. Her heart was racing, you could smell the rush of adrenaline in her blood, and I could smell her…" Jasper coughed and smirked behind his hand, "_arousal_ from the second floor."

Esme, Alice, and Rosalie all shot the snickering Jasper and Emmett dirty looks.

"Edward's sexual perversion aside, what are we going to do? We're—no, _he's_ being investigated by the RPD. This is going to bring the Volturi down on our heads for sure." Rosalie slammed her palm down on the table, splintering the wood as her voice rose. "I'm _not_ going on the run again. I've waited decades to come back to Rochester."

I swallowed, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. I'd put this family through so much with my selfishness and mistakes; I couldn't do it again. I'd committed too many sins already, and I wouldn't risk their fate because of my incontrollable behavior.

Carlisle's thoughts were fractured in a dozen different directions. He was certainly worried about the Volturi's involvement if Detective Swan continued to investigate the family, even though there would be no evidence found at any of the attacks; vampires didn't leave evidence behind. It wouldn't matter if Aro determined that we'd violated the rules—and the rules were very fluid in his favor. He wondered if Rosalie was just exaggerating the perceived threat, or if there was cause to leave Rochester again.

_Maybe we should just take the detective out? Copycat crime?_

I stood up from the table, leaning across the flimsy barrier between me and my sister. "Leave her the fuck alone," I growled, punctuating each word with malice as I met Rosalie's golden gaze. Her lips turned up in a smirk. _Why the sudden chivalry, Edward? I'm sure your thoughts weren't that pure an hour ago._

I was incensed, enraged. Was I jealous? Did I think that was _my_ right to spill her blood? Is that what I wanted to do? The familiar trickle of venom flowing down my throat answered the question for me, but my thoughts quickly morphed toward a fantasy of an entirely different variety—Detective Swan and I joined, her body bowed and arching toward mine as she clawed at my back, drawing me closer. Her eyelids fluttered open, red irises gazing lustily up at me.

I growled and fisted my hair, tugging firmly, breaking my fantasy and channeling my anger toward my sister.

The family watched our little standoff with rapt attention, faces grim with apprehension. I couldn't answer her question. I had no idea where my 'chivalry' had come from, but I didn't want the detective to meet a sticky end because of something I'd done.

Carlisle sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Edward, I—"

In that moment my mind was resolute, and I knew what needed to be done. I extended my hands, asking him to stop, and took a deep breath. "I think the best thing would be for me to—"

"No!"

Alice beat me to the punch, interrupting my announcement, and everyone turned their gaze first to Alice and then me.

"What is it?" Esme asked nervously, reaching across the table for my hand. I squeezed it absently before clasping my hands in my lap and summoned my courage.

"He's leaving!"

I dipped my head, shamed and embarrassed by amount of attention I was about to garner.

"Don't go, Edward, I know you're struggling with your desires, but you can overcome this," Alice pleaded. "I'm sorry, I know everyone is angry now, but let's work through it as a family."

Honestly, I wasn't sure if she was appealing to the family or to me. I knew Alice took my absence harder than the others, and I knew she felt responsible for my feelings of loneliness. It wasn't fair that she felt that burden, and I hoped I hadn't foisted it upon her.

"Edward, is that true? Are you leaving?"

Esme asked the words, but I couldn't look at her, so I looked at Carlisle. I could bear his disappointment; I was used to it.

I nodded glumly. "It's for the best. I won't be talked out of it."

Carlisle nodded too, knowing it was no use to argue about it. I had already made up my mind. "Alice, can you see any complications?"

She closed her eyes tight, shaking her head ever so slightly. "I don't know. I don't know what Detective Swan will do yet. Right now she doubts her own instincts because her partner doesn't have many thoughts on the matter."

That was an understatement. Her partner didn't have any thoughts besides wondering how he could get in her pants.

"Edward, I wish you wouldn't go. Alice is right, we can get through this as family."

Carlisle's words were comforting—a comfort I didn't deserve. I shook my head. "This isn't only for all of you, but for myself as well. I don't know why I crave Detective Swan as much as I do, but it's clearly not safe for me to be around her, and it's not safe for you all to be around me. I need some distance to put things into perspective again."

"But we've only been back together for a short while," Esme protested, reaching for me again. I couldn't take her hand now; if I did, I'd let her own emotions sway mine. I knew she envisioned us as one big, happy family, but evidently I couldn't take it. I'd only been back with them ten years and my resolve had already cracked. I'd long suspected the decades of drinking blood tainted with evil and darkness had affected and consumed me as well. I bore the sins my prey had committed and my own transgressions as well. It was a burden to carry, without question, but I'd done the wicked deeds and it was only fair that I suffered because of it. My victims weren't around to repent and redemption didn't matter to me. There was no heaven, and I was living in a hell on earth.

Drinking from the sinister changes a "person," and I still felt like a monster because of it.

I shook my head and looked down. "I'll leave tonight." I attempted to block out their thoughts, Esme's and Carlisle's in particular; I knew I was hurting them. I was good at that, but in my own way I was trying to protect them all. However, one thought cut through the noise buzzing in my brain much louder than the rest.

_Coward_.

I felt a growl rumble through my chest at Rosalie's accusation. "What would you have me do? Stay here and kill the detective investigating me? Alice will protect you. I know it's not fair to ask her to clean up my mess, but I think you'd rather this kind of mess than the damage I could cause."

"Alice isn't the resident mind reader. How will she be able to know what the detective is thinking if she comes back?" Rosalie snapped, leaning toward me from her side of the table.

I shook my head again. "She won't. But I can't read Swan's mind anyhow, and that pig of a partner of hers isn't thinking about the case at all. Jasper might do better monitoring her emotions and Alice will know when she's coming. There's no evidence to tie anyone here to the crimes, so there's no cause to assume the investigation will turn in that direction."

Rose was beyond listening to reason.

"Whether we like it or not, we're involved now because of you. I'm worried about the undue attention we'll cause! If you make the headlines the Volturi would be here tomorrow! In addition to that, I've waited a long time to come back to Rochester. I'm not ready to leave yet."

I wonder if she realized how much she sounded like the spoiled bitch she had been in her human life.

"Rosalie, the damage is done. Edward has raised Detective Swan's suspicions. The family will come together and deal with this situation we find ourselves in. If Edward thinks distance is the best asset he can provide to contribute, who are we to question him?"

This was when Carlisle was at his best. Truly. Not only did he refer to us as a collective once again, lopping out fate all together, but he gave me a subtle jibe too—as though he was asking me if I really needed a separation or if I was just looking for a means of escape. He wasn't outright questioning my decision and he'd never force my hand or speak directly for me. He was judicious, even-tempered and had far too much faith in me. I didn't deserve his trust.

I nodded once at Carlisle. "Be safe. I need to pack a few things, and I'll be gone tonight."

It was a weighty decision that did not come easily. I was wracked with guilt for leaving my family 'unprotected,' but while the detective was sniffing around and while I wanted to bury myself in her as I drained her dry, it would be best if I left.

I rose from the table, unable to look at them. The disappointment etched on their faces when I'd left several decades before still haunted my memories: Esme's hurt, Carlisle's disappointment, Alice's guilt, and Rose's lack of understanding. It seemed that I was good at evoking these emotions in them.

I sighed and felt my shoulders slump. It was an appropriate visceral reaction; I'd failed once again.

I tossed some brown-colored contacts into the open backpack that was lying on the window seat that overlooked the backyard and took one last glance around my room. My eyes took in my yawning closet doors and the clothes inside before trailing over to the vast collection of music that had kept me company over the last century. My brothers each had one woman, but I had many: Ella, Etta, Rosemary, Kay, Connie, and Joni—there were too many to count. They'd been my companions in the way I needed it most; my distractions, a beautiful voice to say all the right things, and no jealousy or want for commitment. I would leave them behind too. My eyes continued to roam over the personal effects I'd gathered over the last century. I liked being here amongst my own things, and I knew I was particular and snobby.

I wasn't forgetting anything; I was just delaying the inevitable.

I heard footsteps lightly ascending the stairs; I'd been expecting her.

_It's me. Can I come in?_

Of course it was Alice. Not only did I recognize her gait, but she was the only one who would approach me now.

I closed up my backpack and slumped onto the cushioned seat. "Only if you promise not to waste your breath by trying to talk me out of leaving. That's a done deal."

_Okay._

She slipped in and closed the door behind her, her little feet barely making a sound on the carpet as she scuffed toward me, her head down. She flumped down next to me on the bench and looked over at me. "I lied," she admitted, and before I could stop her, she was in a full-blown tirade.

"Please don't go. I'm so sorry. I wish I had seen this coming, but I didn't. I'm sorry, I feel like _I _let everybody down. And I can't help but feel like Jasper and I bear some guilt in your leaving now, just like last time!"

"Alice, stop." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and letting my head fall into my open hands. I recalled the loneliness and way I felt out of place after Alice and Jasper had joined the family. "What happened in the seventies would have happened anyway. I let it happen; I needed to go and let you all be couples. I felt it coming on for thirty or forty years. I should have left sooner, but I'm glad I didn't because I wouldn't have grown so close to you." Alice was my kindred. Another freak like me. I felt a true sibling relationship with Alice; we understood one another.

"I think you're shitting me to make me feel better." The ghost of a smile lingered on her lips.

I pushed my fingers through my hair as I sat up. "Nah, I couldn't do that to you, Short Stuff," I said, nudging her with my elbow. "I just… I don't know how to just _be_. I've always felt like I've I'vebeen waiting for something. I don't know what, but it seems like you all have it, and I don't." I'd long suspected Esme was right and Carlisle had changed me too early. Maybe my Victorian morals got in the way, or perhaps I was a late bloomer, but something was wrong with me. I'd tried to find interest in fellow vampires, but no woman I'd met thus far held any real emotional interest for me. It didn't help that I never had to get to know anyone; their thoughts screamed at me every instant—loud, ugly, selfish thoughts. There was something different about Detective Swan, and I had no idea what it was or how it might play out if I stayed. "I'm not running away, I promise. I just need space—for our safety and the detective's."

Alice nodded. "I should be more understanding; we've all been there and made mistakes."

Despite her comment leaning toward acceptance of my choice, her head still drooped. She tried to distract me by sight-reading the sheet music to "Sonata Pathétique" by Beethoven. The guilt inside me surfaced, choking and uncomfortable.

"I know I'm an ass. Hopefully I won't be gone long. Just until the investigation is over."

I rose and grabbed my bag, slinging it across my back as I unlatched the window. I stepped up on the bench and looked down at my sister. "Goodbye, Alice. I'll be in touch."

She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in her thoughts, and smiled. "Sooner than you think."

I tugged gently on her hair before throwing the window open and jumping down one story to the ground below. The soil gave way under my tread. I situated the pack on my shoulders and took a deep breath before I started running, too afraid to look back, moving forward toward an unknown destination.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ Thanks to Scorp112 & Little Miss Mionie from Project Team Beta for their hard work editing this!

My song rec for this chapter is "My Name is Trouble" by Nightmare of You.

Back to Bella for the next chapter. What do you think she'll do when she finds out Edward is on the run?


	5. Suspicious Minds

I could barely stand Newton's smugness on the way back to the station that first day we went to the Cullen's house.

"Honestly, Swan, what did you think you were going to find? Did you think you were going to stumble on a Freddy Kruger glove with the blood of all the victims on it?"

I was embarrassed and defensive. "No, asshole, I just…" I trailed off. I'd just what? Had a weird gut feeling that there was more to that Cullen kid than met the eye? Been so hot for him I needed to bring a change of undies every time I saw him? I had known the flickering of my intuition was a long shot, but I owed it to myself to pursue it. "I just hoped he or the doctor could, you know, help or something. What's it to you anyway?"

Back at the station I pushed papers around for the rest of the day, making absolutely no progress on anything. I recalled the dump sites where we'd found each of the bodies. They were rural—meadows and ditches, out in nature. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the man I now knew as Edward Cullen out in the elements, but somehow I just couldn't. He seemed so prissy and fussy. It was hard to imagine him blood-soaked and messy, but then again I had seen him angry or having some kind of emotional attack or whatever. So I returned to my original assessment—there was more to Edward Cullen than was obvious on the surface.

I felt like shit by the time I got home and had zero ambition to cook. I popped a frozen dinner in the microwave, the kind my dad always used to eat, and zoned out as it rotated on the plate, 'cooking' from the inside out.

Humans always make mistakes—serial killers and detectives alike. The killer was bound to trip up sooner or later. No crime scene was truly clean; there were always footprints, bent grass, fingerprints, tire tracks, a DNA exchange, not to mention the evidence caused by the murder weapon and any paraphernalia found at the scene. But what happens when there are no clues and no outside motive?

Clearly we had just missed something; something small that would start a domino effect.

* * *

While we waited for forensics to get back to us about our last vic, the team decided to leave no stone unturned and interviewed the friends and families of the victims again.

I dressed casually the evening I was due to interview the friends of 'Saffire,' who was the prostitute and the second victim. I slipped my gun into my shoulder holster, shrugged into my leather jacket, draped my badge around my neck and zipped the coat over it. I locked my apartment and walked down the stairs at the end of the open corridor that led to the back of my building.

It had been raining all day, and I shivered in the cool evening air. I quickly texted Mike to make my whereabouts known as I drove downtown near the apartment building where Saffire and three of her friends lived. Two of the girls had been downright hostile when Mike and I showed up the first time. We got little information from them, but the youngest girl had been helpful, so I had arranged to meet with 'Shandi' at a nearby fast food restaurant before her pimp expected her on the street. I knew it was incredibly likely that she might not show at all, but she had seemed genuinely concerned for her lost friend.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the two of us sat inside the cab of my car as she voraciously ate the cheap meal I'd bought her.

"Fanks," she said around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

I nodded and smiled as I reached into the backseat to extract the manila accordion folder from my bag. I couldn't help but feel sorry for this girl. She was too young to be so involved in this life. Despite the fact that it was a cool summer evening, she asked if I would put the heater on and angled the vents to blow on her damp hair. She was rain-soaked and dressed in clothing that revealed her…assets—a skirt that was barely legal and a low cut tank top that revealed the top of her push up bra. I could see the track marks down her arm.

"Thanks for meeting with me. I know it goes against everything to meet with a cop, but I don't want to arrest you. I want to solve Saffire's murder."

Shandi nodded. "Her real name was Justine. We just called her Saffire because she had blue eyes and a temper."

I clicked my pen and began to scribble some notes on my yellow legal pad. "A temper? Did she have any enemies? Did she stiff her pimp or have any weird johns that seemed interested in her?"

The girl shook her head and shoved two French fries in her mouth. "Nuh-uh, she always paid Ricky, they never got into it or anything. If she had some john after her, she didn't say nothin'."

I kept writing. "What about her money, what did she spend it on? Blow? Crank? Snow?"

Shandi paused, taking a drink of her soda. "No way, not Justine. She has a son in Idaho. He lives with her parents. She sends…er, sent money home to him. She always dreamed about making it back. She was on her way to the Western Union station when she… didn't come back."

It was such a typical story, but it made it no less cruel. "So what about her family? Were they estranged? Angry?"

She shrugged. "Sorta. I mean, most of us aren't tight with our families anymore, but they weren't hateful or nothin'. I don't think she ever visited or anything."

I was fairly certain I could rule out the family, and I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth about their pimp or not, but that wouldn't explain how Justine came to know the homeless guy or the most recent vic.

Opening the folder, I shuffled through the pictures and produced photos of the two men. "Either of these guys look familiar?"

She took another bite of her sandwich and looked over the two pictures. I knew it wasn't the most appetizing thing to see over dinner, but she studied them carefully. "I don't think so? I mean, some days I see a lot of guys and I just sorta block them out, ya know?"

I nodded, but in reality I had no idea.

"Do you think she might have hid stuff from you and your room mates?"

She shrugged again and popped some more fries in her mouth. "Maybe? I don't think so though. We're all we have. We're like family, and there's nothing we can't tell one another."

I scribbled down more notes. It made sense, and I felt some small amount of relief to know they were taking care of each other. I finished and fished one of my business cards out of my folder and handed it to Shandi.

"Here, take this. If you think of anything else, or if you ever need anything—dinner, a safe place, or whatever, call me."

She pasted a tight smile on her face and took the card, tucking it into the small drawstring clutch around her wrist. "Thanks, and good luck on your case. I hope you catch the guy."

* * *

I didn't have any luck with Shandi, and the rest of the team didn't have any luck with their investigations either. There was no discernable connection between the victims—they didn't know the same people, didn't visit the same places, didn't live in the same part of the city, weren't the same religion, or anything else that often tied the victims of serial killers together. We were at a dead end again.

And Edward Cullen still floated in and out of my mind. I kept replaying the first day I'd seen him over and over. I couldn't shake the overwhelming fear I'd felt in his presence, nor could I force his smoldering gaze from my memory. My instinct and intuition kept telling me there was something more to him, and I owed it to myself and this investigation to follow up on it.

Four days after my initial visit to the Cullen home, I returned.

Alone.

* * *

"You're so stupid," I mumbled to myself as I sat in the Cullens' driveway in the cruiser. I had no idea why I was here. No clue at all.

A flash of Edward Cullen's smirk came unbidden into my mind.

I shuddered. I knew _exactly_ what I was doing here.

"And now you're talking to yourself, idiot. You're lucky the Cullens can't hear you." I took a deep breath, holding it in my lungs until it was tight and uncomfortable, and I was forced to let it out in a rush before rapidly draw in another gulp of warm air. I flung the car door open before I could back down and climbed out, grabbing my folder from my bag.

As with my last visit, the house looked perfect and deserted. It looked like the listing photo for a real estate website. But my mind was too busy berating me for my idiocy to notice randomousity now when I was so close to seeing _him_. My body seemed prepared for some kind of fight or flight response—my heart was racing, the muscles in my stomach were tight, and my breathing was shallow. I trudged, heavy-footed, toward the door and reached out with a shaky hand to ring the bell.

I tried to swallow my nervous energy, to force it deep within my core and convert it to something useful: assertion, focus, or not wetting my undies.

The door was answered three seconds after I'd rung the bell; there was no rush of pounding feet to get to the door or random voice yelling "I'll get it!" No, it was if they'd been standing on the other side of the door awaiting me and paused for the appropriate length of time before opening the door.

One of Dr. Cullen's daughters stood across the threshold from me—Alice, I think. She was pretty and feminine, but in a girlish way. Her figure was slight and her pixie-cut hair style made her look even more cherubic and sweet. She had a polite smile on her face, but there was something off in her expression. Fear? Worry? Concern?

"Hello, Detective Swan, please come in."

She stepped aside, swinging the door open wider behind her, but I was still forced to pass quite close to her. I couldn't help but notice that the perfume she wore smelled amazing. "Thank you, Ms. Cullen, could I speak to your father and brother please?"

Before I could reach into my bag to produce my notepad and pen, the doctor was standing there in his scrubs and lab coat. I jumped, startled at his proximity; I hadn't heard him approach.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, detective. Please come in." He gestured toward the living room, and Alice smiled encouragingly.

"Is Edward here too? I was hoping to follow up with both of you," I offered, pushing my fear aside and taking a seat on the edge of the sofa in the living room. I clicked my pen open and set my notepad on my lap.

I didn't miss Dr. Cullen's eyes dart toward Alice who was lurking at the edge of the room before he spoke. "I'm sorry, he isn't here. Can I be of some help?"

I chewed on the end of my pen as I leaned forward and let my elbows rest on my knees. "Hmm," I mumbled around the pen in my mouth. "I was really hoping to speak to both of you and see if either of you had any thoughts since we last met. When will Edward be home?"

Neither the doctor nor his daughter spoke for a long moment, but they held one another's gaze before the doctor cleared his throat and addressed me. "My son has gone on a retreat to our family home in Alaska."

Wait. What?

_He's on the lam!_ my mind screamed as I furiously scribbled some notes on my legal pad.

"Retreat? Should I be concerned? Is there any particular reason he left the state after a police officer questioned him about a murder investigation?" I looked expectantly at the doctor and waited for a response.

"No, there's no cause for concern on your end, but should there be cause for concern on our end? Is Edward a suspect?" His voice was cool and calm, no hint of panic.

I tapped my pen on the legal pad. "No, not necessarily. It just seems an odd time to run, doesn't it? Can you see how that might be cause for suspicion?"

The doctor folded his hands and let out a sigh. I took that as a sign of acknowledgment. The cushion sank next to me on the couch, and I looked over to find his daughter sitting next to me.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it abruptly. She repeated the process another time before turning to meet my eyes and ruffled up her short hair a bit. "Detective, you'd have to know my brother. He's a—how should I say it? A… a drama queen. He's moody, solitary, and to be honest, quite depressed. Sometimes he just needs time to himself. We know exactly where he is, we could get in touch with him in a heartbeat, and he'd fly home tomorrow if need be. There's nothing to worry about."

Her eyes were glittering liquid gold pools, and I found myself slightly lost in their alluring depths. "Oh, okay," I heard myself mumble as I nodded. I felt…buzzed or something, like I'd had a glass of wine for lunch. I shook my head and looked away, seeking some distraction from her mysterious orbs.

I pulled a card from my folder and stood, handing it to the doctor. "Fair enough, please contact me when Edward gets back in town. I really would like to follow up—with both you and your son."

* * *

After excusing myself from the Cullen home, I returned to my car and went for a long drive. I didn't know why my thoughts kept returning to Edward. Was I merely scared to acknowledge my strange attraction to this even stranger boy, or was there something more there? I had absolutely nothing to go on. I could admit that, but I couldn't place why I felt nervous and agitated around him. I couldn't place why I longed to see him again either. That wasn't like me. I learned to suppress real feelings about people a long time ago. You couldn't count on humans to stick around with any permanence. They left you. They died.

I spent the rest of the night in the bar and stayed until closing time.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**Epic thanks to Kisbydog & Reamhar from Project Team Beta for their hard work!

PLEASE leave me some love. I'll give out spoilers ;-)


	6. Threefold Plan

**EPov:**

The elk collapsed under my weight, bugling loudly as I sunk my teeth into the artery in its neck. His knees sunk into the tall grass as its heart slowed, pumping the last vestiges of life through its veins. I drank greedily, though not thirsty at all, but eager for the golden hue to return to my eyes and take in the calming essence that Carlisle hypothesized animal blood gave us.

I licked the last drips of warm, rich, gamey blood from my lips and climbed off the elk, brushing the stray fur off my elbows and knees. I would have to find somewhere to deposit the creature's body—destroy all evidence. I remembered a small lake that I'd seen on the map near the ranger station when I crossed into the national park hours before.

Dragging the carcass, I thought of the eight days I had been away from my family. It was more difficult to be away from them than I remembered. Though my relationship with them was sometimes strained, I felt a part of something real and secure. It might not have been like the coupled relationships that they shared with their mates but nevertheless, I felt like we had camaraderie, a kinship. Something I'd never found anywhere else but with them. I always felt closest to Carlisle, he was my creator, and a father in every way that mattered. He was my guide to this life and a companion, but our relationship had become a little more strained as new family members were added. It wasn't very difficult to adapt to Esme, she was a mother at heart, and the perfect companion to Carlisle. She and I learned the new life together, and I basked in the attention she gave me, treating me as if I was her own son.

The addition of Rosalie in the 1930s was another matter entirely. I knew instantly that Carlisle had changed her in the hopes we would get along and make our own match, but it was never to be. We were too alike and too different in all the wrong ways. A part of me wanted her to love me so that I could feel fucking normal; to have what Carlisle and Esme had. To have what my parents had, but it wasn't to be. When Rosalie brought Emmett home and after Carlisle changed him, they looked at one another as though they were each other's savior, and I had no concept of that feeling. Watching their relationship blossom was difficult; I wanted what they had—love, acceptance, companionship, understanding, chemistry. Being in the house with two couples in love were the hardest fucking days I'd known as a vampire. I was worried I was destined to be alone.

When Jasper and Alice found us in the 1950s, they were the straw that broke the camel's back. I felt an instant affinity with both Alice and Jasper due to their gifts. It was nice not to be the only freak, and to find ways for our talents to work together and benefit the family, but I didn't understand the all-consuming, arresting expression they would get in their eyes when they looked at one another. My mind reading ability told me _exactly_ what they were thinking, but it wasn't a feeling I had ever experienced for another creature—human or vampire. I resented what they had, and I wondered why I couldn't find it, so I took it out on them. I began drifting and distancing myself. I knew my behavior was rivaling a petulant child, but vampires are often resistant and slow to change, and I used that to my advantage. After a decade or so, I couldn't take it anymore. I left my family.

I wandered on my own for nearly twenty years, visiting any city or country that appealed to me. I began my descent into hunting humans, something I'd avoided for fifty years of my existence. Though I hunted down society's scum, it didn't truly make me feel any better about my decisions. _Knowing_ what they thought as my teeth punctured their carotid arteries, sucking the very essence of life out of them took its toll. I envisioned myself drinking not only their blood but the darkness and evil out of them and into myself.

I tried to maintain contact with the family with occasional phone calls, reassuring them I was fine, but not letting them know about the dietary changes I'd made in their absence. I'd kept the secret from them for a decade before I encountered Carlisle and Esme coming out of a crowded theater on a rainy night in London. I was overwhelmed by the smell of the masses, the rain drowning out the stronger scents, and focused on reading the minds around me, looking for my next victim when I literally bumped into my adopted parents on the street. They didn't need the yellow, buzzing, streetlights to see my eyes had changed from golden to garnet. The shock on their faces belied their disappointment. Carlisle had said nothing except "Edward, remember who you are."

It took me ten more years to remember.

Being away from them this week was almost as difficult as it had been those twenty years. It took time to rekindle our relationships, but they welcomed me back as a brother and a son. The feelings of loneliness and the lack of belonging that I felt did not disappear, but I could keep them at bay. My family's disappointment and hurt for not only hunting humans but for leaving them for so many years affected me more than my feelings of isolation had. I knew they never intentionally meant to hurt me, and so I tried to give them the same assurance. I might not understand their relationships, but I valued them, and I valued myself and my time when I was with them.

Alice had called daily since I'd left, leaving me brief, encouraging, messages. She relayed that Detective Swan had returned and inquired about my whereabouts, causing my anger to flare up. What fucking right did she have to hunt me down and pursue me? She had no evidence against me, and I didn't know what put her on my trail in the first place. I knew that my family could up and assume new lives overnight before the detective could get a warrant for my arrest, thanks to Alice's gift, but there was no way I would hurt my family that way or let the detective chase me away from them.

Or had I already let that happen? Damn it. I had told myself I wasn't running from Isabella Swan, I was just 'taking a break,' but it was all bullshit. I let her keep me from my family and the life we created. Why was I thinking of her anyway? She'd find no evidence, and she'd quit pestering me and the rest of my family after a while, or blame somebody else. I'd come here to escape _her_, but I couldn't let her go. I was pissed off at her for making me crave her body and blood, and I was pissed at myself and my inability to let her go. I recognized the feelings within myself and compared them to what I saw in the minds of others. Emmett felt the same things about Rosalie after his newborn streak was over. I had an overwhelming desire to make her _mine_, to keep her for myself, not to share her with anyone or anything.

I growled and tossed the elk into a watery grave at the bottom of a small pond as I stood at the water's edge and listened to the gentle lapping against the shoreline. The sun left a shifting, gold reflection on the water's surface as twilight descended. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, remembering the delicious scent of Isabella Swan.

Long after darkness had blanketed the night sky, I decided to return to the large, red cabin in the woods. Running between the pines and through the scrub, I heard the snap of a twig behind me. I didn't turn around, I knew she was there. I'd been tracking her scent and hearing her thoughts for some time now. I didn't stop until I reached the tree line, where the pines gave way to a sprawling meadow and pond behind the cabin Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rosalie and I built.

"Tanya, you're back early," I said, disinterested, turning to look at her.

She giggled, stepping through the deep undergrowth. "Slim pickings in town tonight."

Tanya was doing her own hunting, and it didn't involve drinking the blood of another living creature.

"Hunting season just started, I'll have more to choose from soon." She winked, and I waited for her to catch up to me.

"Don't you feel like a hooker? Going into the nearest bar and propositioning men?" I wondered, slightly disgusted at her cavalier attitude.

She laughed again. "No. We all have needs, Edward. I don't make them do anything they don't want to do, and I don't pick up married men. It's mutually beneficial."

I shrugged. If she was fine with it, I supposed I shouldn't be so condemning. It was just difficult knowing that other people often fantasized about others during sex, recited to-do lists, or would rather be doing something else. It took the intimacy and eroticism out of it.

"What's your interest anyway? Decide to take me up on my offer?" She smiled, knowing full well I'd never say yes.

I laughed again. "Not quite, my dear." She'd made her offer clear several times and had always respected my answers, though I suspected it had more to do with respecting Carlisle and Esme than it did me. As with Rose, a part of me wanted her to truly want me so I could give in, but I knew I'd find her mind like so many others. To Tanya, I would be a conquest and nothing more.

"What gives anyway? You've been moping for a week. Alice told me about the detective tailing you, but it's more than that. Talk to me, I promise I won't judge."

Tanya sat down on a pine log and tilted her head back, gazing up at the star-spotted sky, as she tried to give me the space she thought I needed. I stood, watching her, and wondering what it would feel like to truly unburden myself. I had always been able to trust Tanya. She'd been beyond helpful when I decided to return home after my twenty year absence by helping me "detox" and running interference with Carlisle.

I exhaled and fisted my hands into my hair, tugging sharply. "It's not the investigation itself, I know there was no evidence left behind. It's that fucking detective. She's driving me crazy." I sat down on the other end of the pine log and released my hair, knowing it probably looked quite the mess. I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed.

I didn't need to look at her to hear the smirk in Tanya's voice. "I can see that. It's good you've admitted it to yourself, now you can do something about it."

I looked up. "Do something about what?"

Her smirk turned into a smile, lifting the corners of her red lips. "The detective. Edward, get serious, her name is the only one I've heard for a week. Isabella Swan-this and Detective Swan-that. When are you going to admit to yourself that you've got a thing for this woman?"

I didn't say anything. I was too shocked and angry. A thing? _A thing?_ Had I really been discussing her? Is that why I couldn't stop thinking of her? Did I _want_ a thing with Isabella Swan? A detective? A human? I had deluded myself into thinking I wanted something physical and that was it. Did I want something more?

The memory of her scent flooded my mind, and I found myself growling and swallowing back venom. My dick grew hard.

"Edward, there's no shame in it, you know."

Shame? Was I ashamed?

"I mean, _if_ you are attracted to the detective."

The real fear came flooding in. I didn't know _how_ to be intimate. I didn't know what love was. And I didn't know how to be intimate with a human. A human who may or may not suspect me in a murder investigation.

"I—" How could I possibly explain how I felt? A lifetime of wondering if something was wrong with me—wondering if I could ever fall in love. I knew it took more than a beautiful face, one was looking at me curiously now, and I felt nothing for her. Maybe Esme was right, maybe I had been turned too early.

Then again, it had very little to do with a lack of desire because my body certainly responded to the detective, but I worried about my past, the ugliness that had tainted me. Was I worthy of knowing love if I did find it?

"I don't know what love is, and I don't know if I deserve it," I admitted, thinking back on watching Carlisle and Esme, Rosalie and Emmett fall for one another. "I don't know if she's the right one, if she can see me for what I am, what secrets her mind might hold." I didn't want to say it aloud, but I thought to myself, _what if her mind is as shallow as the rest of the other women who had appealed to me?_

I sighed, feeling terribly vain yet vulnerable.

"Edward, come here," Tanya said, scooting toward me.

My eyes darted toward hers hesitantly as I slid to my left, closer to her, until our thighs were touching.

"Do you still maintain you have only friendly feelings for me?" Her eyebrows were arched high and her voice broke at the end of her question.

I nodded, letting my eyes fall back to the pond in front of us. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm not the man for you, Tanya, and you couldn't be the woman for me." I felt awful for saying it, but I didn't want to lead her on. I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye.

"If that's the case, kiss me." Her voice was timid, barely a whisper, and she twisted one strawberry-blond curl around her finger in a coy attempt at flirtation as she waited for me to react.

I did nothing.

"It's not a ploy, I just thought…well…it might give me some closure that you'll be the one who got away," she giggled, nudging me with her knee, "and might help you too. If you kiss me and feel nothing, you'll have something to compare it to if you pursue your detective."

I didn't know if I could overcome the desire for her blood in order to pursue my desire for Detective Swan's body, but Tanya _did_ have a point. Maybe. Perhaps I should treat this as an experiment. My control group as it were. I swallowed nervously, an instinctual human habit.

"Okay," I breathed, rubbing my palms down the front of my jeans.

"Okay," she answered, letting the curl of hair she was twisting around her fingers snap back into place.

My eyes darted up to hers as she leaned in closer, bringing her face toward mine. I felt her strawberry-blond ringlets brush against my cheek as we both tilted our heads in opposite directions, and she laughed breathily at our awkwardness. She cautiously took my face between her hands, leaning my head to the left, and pressed her lips to mine.

Her mouth was firm and insistent, and she pulled herself closer as her venom-laced tongue traced the line between my lips seeking entrance. I parted them, and my eyes widened as she snaked her tongue inside and it twisted around mine.

It wasn't awful, though my body didn't respond to her the way it did when I smelled Bella's arousal, but I could see that Tanya's eyes were closed, and her mind swam with fantastical images of us in intimate situations. I began to pull away, pressing my closed lips once more to hers before separating and moving a few inches away. To be really honest, it didn't mean anything except a barometer perhaps. I had avoided relationships at all costs, but it wasn't my first intimate moment; although it was the first one in quite some time, and that made it slightly appealing, just the closeness to another being.

She let out a sigh and she bit her bottom lip as she tried to hold in a smile. Her eyes remained closed. Clearly it did mean something else to her, if I'd had a heart it would have twisted with agony.

"Tanya, I'm—"

"Shh," she breathed, letting her golden eyes open slowly. "Don't say anything. It's okay if it didn't mean anything to you."

We were quiet for several minutes, and I felt guilty for agreeing to let her kiss me even though I knew she would move on. Quickly.

"So," she began, finally relaxing, folding her hands and resting them on her lap, "I think you need to go home and find this Isabella Swan. Befriend her. Show her the Edward Cullen I know, not the villain she assumes you to be. You're a wonderful gentleman when you want to be, Edward. You're handsome, and if there's something there between you, she won't be able to fight it for long."

I tried to contain my excitement at her suggestion. Maybe I did want something more, but getting all fucking hopeful was the last thing I needed. I needed to be realistic. "You think?" I asked, picking up a stone from the ground between my feet. My fingers dug in and molded it into a smoother shape, littering the ground with grey shards where the rock used to be.

"Yes, trust me, I know human sexuality. They can't resist us, Edward."

I stood and cocked my arm back and fired the stone across the pond, watching it skip several times before it sunk into the dark surface of the water. "But I don't want her to like me out of obligation; I don't want her to feel attracted to me simply because I could make her. It's like the equivalent of a pity fuck, and I don't want that."

Tanya rose and came to stand next to me at the water's edge. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sure you could manipulate her that way if you wanted to, but you're not that kind of man. You're deserving of a girl who likes you for the right reasons. I think that you should trust your instincts. Her body will give away her intentions."

I had to lick my lips. Tanya might be on the right track there.

"I'm right. Trust me. Think on it another day or two, and then go home to your family. They miss you."

She squeezed my bicep and began to walk away. "And if you change your mind about your detective, you know where to find me."

I sat there for a long time, watching the stars meander in their predestined path across the sky. Oh, if only existence were that easy.

I tried not to think of Isabella Swan, but I couldn't resist. I realized that I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what prompted her to go into law enforcement, what she'd been like as a little girl, what she thought of those ridiculous TV dramas about cops and crime scene investigators. And I was desperate to know what she felt like inside and out. Did she have dreams, was her laugh as irresistible as her smile, did she think of me at all?

As I saw it, my problem was three-fold. The first, obviously, was the vampire problem. As far as I knew, most vampires couldn't have relationships with humans—they saw them as victims. I hoped my family's history would work in my favor. It had worked for Tanya and her sisters though, at least the sex part. That's not to say there wouldn't need to be special care taken, but it didn't sound impossible. If I could re-learn how to play the piano without breaking the keys, I could learn how to play Bella Swan's body too, and hopefully make her sing in the process.

Second, she had convinced herself I was a criminal. For all intents and purposes, I was. I had done awful things, sometimes on a daily basis. Muder. Tax evasion, fraud, money laundering, forgery, speeding; the list was endless, and on top of that, the first woman to ever evoke a truly sexual response from me was a cop. This could be my biggest mistake ever. I wasn't sure how to keep her off my trail, but who believed in vampires anyway?

Third, I had to make her fall in love with me.

* * *

Author's Note: BIG thank you to Kisbydog & Sarahsumbrella from Project Team Beta for their hard work on the beta! It's appreciated.

Thank you all for reading. I'll give out spoilers for the next chapter in review comments!


	7. Unraveling a Rivalry

**BPov**

Ignoring the gunfire around me, I raised my service Glock and looked down the barrel at the front sight, taking aim at my target. I cupped my hands around the butt of the gun and squeezed the trigger, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline as the bullet left the gun and the recoiled energy coursed into my body. I popped off a series of shots, hearing the spent cartridges hit the floor around me. The last bullet ripped through my mark, a kill shot, and I bit back a smile.

I flicked the safety on, re-holstered my weapon at my waist and pressed the button on the inside of the booth, calling for the target to come zipping toward me. The paper was polka-dotted with holes through the silhouette's eyes, left lung, liver, right kidney, and the heart.

I was a damn good shot, and I could admit it. To myself anyway.

I felt a tap on my right shoulder and removed my earphones and earplugs as Newton leaned around me to grab my target.

"Jesus, Swan, who are you imagining the target is? You just wasted that guy."

_You_.

Not really. I always imagined something aside from the anatomical paper figure, but I couldn't really put into words what I envisioned. Some faceless being. A monster, literally. It floated at the edge of my consciousness, snarling, with bared teeth. I wasn't sure I wanted to see it.

"Some of us are just that good, Mikey," I teased, giving his cheek a playful slap.

He leaned away from my hand, shaking his head. "Your ass better be nice to me. I've got some news you might be interested in."

"Oh?" I asked, vaguely disinterestedly as I packed up my guns, earphones, and removed my shooting glasses.

"Yeah, my boy Tyler saw Cullen yesterday at a Volvo dealership over on University Avenue."

I wheeled around, surprised. It was the last thing I expected him to say. "Are you sure?" I was one hundred percent sure I'd given Dr. Cullen a card and asked him to have Edward call me upon his return. Was he avoiding contacting me?

Newton moved to the booth next to mine and began unpacking his gear. "Positive. Tyler saw the doctor with him."

_Fuck_.

I leaned around the edge of the divider and peeked into his stall. "Thanks, Mike, I owe you. Big."

His earphones were wrapped around his neck and he inserted the clip into his gun and slid his shooting glasses into place. "How big?" he asked suggestively.

I snorted. "Not that big. Never that big."

* * *

I needed to plan my strategy if I was going to approach Cullen again, so I went to the gym to expend some of the built-up adrenaline I'd amassed while shooting. I parked my ass on the spinning bike, popped my earbuds in, and zoned out. I needed to think.

It probably wouldn't be beneficial to show up at the house again; they'd assume we were tailing them and might run again or be on high alert at any rate. The last thing I needed was to get slapped with allegations of harassment.

The thought of sitting around and waiting while forensic and toxicology reports came back was agonizing. What if there was another murder in the meantime?

I felt backed into a corner; there was little I could do without risking either my own integrity, the reputation of the department, or ruining the investigation and causing my only suspect to run.

I left the gym feeling defeated, and I decided to get a coffee, risking a trip back to my favorite coffee shop. I didn't shower before I left, and I didn't change out of my T and yoga pants either. Despite my narrow, shitty tub, a bath sounded good. I could drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine and probably drown myself in the tub while I was at it. It sounded like an excellent option.

Thirty minutes later, I found myself sitting under a tree on the patio of the coffee shop, which was much busier this time, thank God. I lazily flipped through a local circular with entertainment happenings as I chugged my second latte. I wasn't really interested in the announcements for local bands, but it beat listening to the lunchtime conversations around me and the reminder that other people had significantly cooler lives than I did. And for a few moments, I almost forgot about the burden on my shoulders.

As I tipped my cup back, taking another sip, I saw a shock of copper hair through the small crowd passing down the city street. I set the cup down and sat up straighter, peering over the top of the paper to better see the person coming toward me. _It might not be him_, I thought. Anyone could have bronze hair, right?

My heart pounded as I waited to see the face of the man coming my way. _Did I want it to be him?_

My mouth was dry, my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I couldn't swallow. He was coming closer. The crowd opened up, and I held my breath as the person was revealed.

It was _him_.

He wore very dark Ray Ban sunglasses and, despite the mild day, a grey button up oxford shirt and black v-neck sweater with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. He had on distressed jeans that frayed around the pockets and hems and were narrow through the hip. I wondered if he had a nice ass. He was already grinning like the cat that got the canary when he stopped short in front of my table, and I wondered what inspired that smile. It's like he _knew_ I would be sitting here.

"Good morning, Detective Swan. What a surprise to see you here."

I sat dumbfounded as my eyes swept over his body. I could lie to myself and say I was checking to see if he had any kind of weapon on him but in all truth, I was gawking at this fine specimen of man. I hated myself for it. I was equally pissed that I hadn't changed out of my gym clothes. But I was downright angry at his fucking smugness.

My feet were resting on the chair in front of me, and I slid them off, one first and then the other. I forced myself to swallow and break my gaze. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you again, Mr. Cullen. I stopped by your father's and heard you took a little vacation. I left my card. I was hoping you'd call."

The smile that had faltered ever so slightly returned. "I'm flattered you hoped for a call, Ms. Swan, my apologies for not contacting you sooner. I needed to buy some provisions upon my arrival back home."

"Like Volvos?" I jabbed, wishing I hadn't shown my hand so early.

The smile widened again, letting me have more than a glimpse of his bright white teeth. Of course, I'd seen them another time gritted in anger. He didn't take my bait.

"May I?"

He gestured to the open chair across from me and waited patiently for my reply.

Again, I was stunned. Shocked. Clearly this man must be bi-polar or something. This wasn't the same person who growled at me in the same café only a short time ago and refused to answer any questions at his father's house a couple weeks ago.

I eventually nodded and, as he pulled the chair a little further away from the table, I reached down alongside the chair leg for my purse. I nudged the leather bag and felt the familiar and comfortable weight of my gun.

He settled himself further away from me than I expected and sat ramrod straight, appearing physically uncomfortable, and appeared to be holding his breath.

I worried for a moment that I would see a return of Edward _Hyde_ Cullen until he relaxed a little and leaned back into the chair. "How can I help you, detective?"

I stared at his bespectacled face, not knowing what to say. This was what I'd tried to work out for days now, _why_ I went to see him in the first place.

"I stopped by to inquire if you'd had any thoughts about our last conversation regarding the investigation. I was very surprised to hear you'd skipped town."

He smirked, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkle behind his sunglasses. It disturbed me that he found the process amusing. "I've not thought of anything else. My apologies, I've had a great deal on my mind lately—hence the trip to the family cottage in Alaska."

I nodded, filing each detail away in my brain for later consideration. "Yes, your sister told me you were a bit of a drama queen," I taunted, taking the last drink of my latte, feeling the gritty dregs stick to my tongue.

He threw back his head and laughed aloud, the sound contagious and far more cheerful than I could ever imagine coming from him. The warmth of the tone rattled around my chest, in the empty spaces where I'm sure my soul once resided, and settled there, kick-starting my heart into an accelerated rhythm. I wanted to hear the sound again.

"Did she? Well, my sister knows all."

I felt my lips stretch, and I tried to quell the smile that was itching to split my face. I looked down at the pigeon cooing quietly beneath our table. It took a few hesitant steps toward Edward and looked up, hoping he'd drop part of a muffin or bagel, but then retreated quickly, darting under my chair.

I couldn't bear the silence. It was uncomfortable, and I racked my brain for something to talk about. Something relevant, so it didn't seem like I was prying. I remembered that Angela mentioned Edward started school about the same time that she did, and I prompted him about it.

"So, um, if you don't work in a lab, what do you do with your forensics degree, Mr. Cullen?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I consult with my father, but usually nothing. A large inheritance makes that possible. I wanted to prove to myself that I could learn forensics by the book. It was solving the mystery that made it interesting. Now that I've done that, I'm afraid I don't find it very challenging."

I scoffed at his reply. "_I _presented you with a challenge, and I didn't hear any suggestions," I taunted, referencing my petition for help with the serial murder case.

His eyebrows rose above the frames of his sunglasses. "Ah, but that was _your _challenge, detective. Not mine."

He was back to grinning again, and I wondered if he knew more than he was letting on. I fumed as the silence between us wore on. Why in the hell was I here with this man? Why did I care who he was or what he did with his time? Why was I thinking about him even now?

"We like it on top."

His voice suddenly broke the standoff, distracting me from the cacophony inside my own head.

"Excuse me?" I spluttered indignantly.

"Your T-shirt," he said, pointing at the green shirt stretched tight across my breasts.

Right. The t-shirt I was wearing. The one-size too small because I've gained weight since graduation, stinky, sweaty, shirt I didn't change out of after leaving the gym today.

"Oh." I could feel my face flame with embarrassment. What did I think he was talking about?

_SEX, dummy! Isn't that the point of a T-shirt with a double entendre printed on it?_

My mind changed gears rapidly, the cranial cogs slipping a little. My sex-deprieved mind instantly conjured up a brilliant fantasy involving the man in front of me. Flashes of myself naked and face down on a bed, wrists bound by the T-shirt, as Edward slid into me from behind. He ran his hand up over my ass cheek and up my spine. I jolted back to reality when the vision changed rapidly from one of passion to my abandoned corpse marred with five scratches across my back.

He stared across the table at me, waiting for an explanation.

"It's, um, from my dorm at college." I turned in my chair so he could see the back. It had the name of my dorm and my graduating year above a picture of my old dormitory hall on it. "We, uh, lived on the top floor."

I resettled in my chair and mentally cursed myself out. _Idiot! Why are you telling him this? Just stop talking! He might be a murder suspect! _

"You went to MSU?"

His eyes were narrowed, but his lips twitched in amusement.

"Yeah, I majored in Criminal Justice before I went through the academy." I wondered why he cared about my alma mater.

"I—the men in my family went to Michigan."

A fierce college rivalry if I'd ever seen one. "Ah, so that's it," I surmised, slapping my knee. "Maybe the reason we don't get along is wrapped up in a 112 year college football rivalry."

The full grin was back. "On the contrary, Ms. Swan, I think we get on just fine," he replied, pushing his Ray Bans further up on the bridge of his nose.

_Yeah, when you're not trying to kill me._

I was determined to play the good cop from now on. It wouldn't be beneficial to be a hard ass. It was obvious that he was more responsive today than he had been on the previous two occasions. I'd just have to keep this up.

I removed my purse from the back of the chair and pawed through it, finding my business card wallet. I flipped a card onto the table and pushed it toward Edward. "Thanks for stopping to talk to me today, Mr. Cullen. If you have any thoughts about the case, please don't hesitate to call me. I promise, I don't bite."

His lips twitched again as he fought to control his smile. "It's a pity, Detective Swan. I do." He rose from the chair, winked, and pocketed the card.

A shiver rippled through me, but I wasn't sure if I was terrified or turned on. I narrowed my eyes. "Let me know if you'll be leaving town again."

He froze suddenly, stock still, and wrinkled his nose as though he smelled something foul. He looked away just as suddenly, as though someone had called his name from afar; though I'd heard nothing. His countenance changed when he turned back around. His eyes were narrowed, lip curled back ever so slightly. Was this the return of Mr. Hyde?

"Will do, detective. I must take my leave now. Have a pleasant day."

He slipped back into the lunchtime crowd, and I turned in my seat to satisfy my earlier curiosity.

Yep, he had a nice ass. Damn him.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_A HUGE thank you to _Duskwatcher and Kisbysdog08 _for the beta! _

_Apologies to everyone who has been SO patient with me getting out this chapter. I'm a busy college student who just finished the worst semester of her college career thus far. That said, I'm done for the semester and updates will happen MUCH more frequently now. Thank you for your support and patience!_


	8. Unfulfilled

_**Author's Note:**_ This looks A LOT better if you read in the half or three-quarters width.

* * *

I was dreaming. The delicious kind of dream that left you sweaty, restless, and yet unfulfilled.

The sex dream.

Of course, all my dreams lately starred the sexy, albeit weird man who'd recently come into my life. The man I'd suspected of committing a rash of crimes throughout Rochester. What did that say about me?

Edward Cullen's narrow hips between my thighs, his mouth attached to my nipple, my fingers clenched in his hair.

This wasn't the first dream starring my suspect, and it wasn't the first time my dream self didn't get the chance to—ahem—finish. Each time the dreams slinked into my sub-consciousness, making me feel dirtier than a whore in a pigpen, something interrupted me before I could come. Christ, I had mental blue balls waiting to achieve some sort of dream climax. I'd always wake up right before. Sometimes the neighbor's dog barked, sometimes it was a car alarm down in the parking lot, other times I think my brain just couldn't handle my subliminal, unconscious desires.

True to form, I could hear my phone ringing, and even in my sleep I recognized the ring tone.

It was the Chief.

I struggled to awaken, finding my wrists pressed to my hipbones, my fingers dipping under the waistband of my boyshorts.

I coughed to clear my voice and fumbled around the nightstand for my phone.

"Hullo?" My voice was thick with sleep, and I coughed again as I struggled to sit up. The red glow from the clock next to my bed read 3:58.

"We've got a vic. Get your ass over to the warehouse where Clifford dead ends."

"Warehouse?" My mind was struggling to keep up.

"Yes. The Tech Unit is on the way. Newton and Crowley will meet you there."

The chief hung up abruptly, and I vaguely wondered if he'd go back to sleep for a few hours.

I threw back the covers, swung my feet over the edge of the bed and planted them on the cold floor. I leaned forward, letting my elbows rest on my knees and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, the kind that tremors through your whole body like an earthquake, and I rubbed at my eyes.

Heaving myself off the edge of the bed, I padded to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I rinsed my toothbrush under the tap and stuck it in my mouth after another yawn. I chewed on the bristles as I gathered up my hair in a ponytail. I was still trying to shake off the dream.

More importantly, why couldn't I shake Edward Cullen?

It suddenly occurred to my drowsy brain that I had another vic just days after Edward returned from his sojourn in Alaska, but I hadn't had one the entire time he was gone.

I was suddenly wide awake.

* * *

"We've got a partial print, Bella."

Eric was the technician on call and, much to my surprise, he was bagging evidence as I ducked under the crime scene tape and entered the warehouse. I tried taking in the details of the scene. Paint cans randomly dotted the floor, a broom lay abandoned near the northeast corner, and there was another open door at the far end of the building.

The big halogen work lights illuminated the crime scene and dozens of little, yellow placards marking the evidence around the mostly abandoned warehouse.

I tried not to get my hopes up.

"Is Newton here yet?" I asked, fumbling for my phone so I could enter some details.

Eric nodded. "Yeah, he and Crowley went around back to secure the property and see if there was anything else. There's some outdoor storage in a lean-to out back."

I could see the body, a woman, but I couldn't tell if the five open gashes marred the skin or if the throat and neck were torn open.

Mike and Tyler returned, stating there was no perp or second crime scene. I stayed outside the field Eric was working within, so I wouldn't contaminate the evidence, and waited for the team to process the scene. The unit worked systematically, taking photos, collecting evidence, and obtaining samples. Finally! There would be something to test!

After a couple more minutes, Eric rose from a crouch and ripped his gloves off before dropping them in the designated trash bag. He leaned into his shoulder and wiped his cheek on the shoulder of his polo shirt and announced, "It's all yours, guys."

We descended upon the scene like hounds chasing a fox. Mike picked up the victim's purse and searched for a wallet, Tyler studied the footprints near the rear door, and I stood over the body, looking down upon the once-beautiful face. Now her blue eyes were fixed with fear, and her blond hair was stained burgundy.

"Sarah Kempton, 28, from Webster."

I heard Mike's voice, but my eyes didn't leave the corpse. There were four deep gashes across her stomach in more of a random rather than systematic fashion. Blood had poured from the wounds and stained her pink T-shirt that read '#1 Mommy.' Not all the cuts went in the same direction. Some were angled to the right; some to the left, one was directly up and down. Her throat was slashed.

"There's no cash in the wallet, Bella. No credit cards either."

"Fuck!" I swore, looking away from the body. "There's no way this was the same perp, Mike. Different motive, different injuries. Who reported the crime anyway?"

Tyler spoke up, his shoes scuffing over the dirty pavement as he moved closer. "A neighbor across the street. She heard a scream and then a car speeding off."

"We took a sample, but there were no visible tracks," Eric said, disappointment tainting his voice as he bent low over his tools and began to pack them up.

"I'll head over and see if I can get any details." Mike handed the purse to Eric to put into evidence and excused himself from the scene.

I sighed, watching Mike leave and seeing the coroner's van pulling up outside.

"Don't worry, Bella. I'm going to process this right away. If there's a fingerprint match in the system, we'll have something soon," Eric said as he dropped the purse into a clear plastic bag labeled EVIDENCE in bold letters.

* * *

There was no way I'd be able to go home and sleep for an hour or two, so I decided to start my day early and headed in to the office—after I stopped for a coffee and a bear claw from the convenience store by the station. Cheap coffee and individually wrapped pastries. Mmmm, the breakfast of champions.

The office was never quiet. Despite the early hour, phones rang, visitors came in, and the techs ran labs. Still half asleep, I weaved through the desks like a drunk trying to find his car in the bar's parking lot at closing time. I dropped my bag into the waiting chair in my cubicle near the back corner of the office and sighed. Overnight the lights were dimmed to an orange glow, the bulbs buzzing and eating away at my sanity.

Stuck to the monitor of my computer was a note. At the bottom of the novelty stationary was a chalk outline of a body, and the caption read "Got Chalk?" I snickered and lifted it from the screen.

_Come see me._

_-Ang-_

Angela. Maybe she had something on the body we'd found abandoned in the suburbs. I hurried back through the desks to the elevator and punched the keycode for the basement level. I tapped my nails on the handrail and waited as the elevator chugged to life, dropping suddenly, my stomach dropping immediately after.

My mind drifted back over the last several weeks. I didn't have much hope of solving the case with the current evidence, but if Angela had something, anything, to tie Edward Cullen—or anyone else to the crime—it would be the break we needed.

The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors rumbled open. I made my way to the end of the hall where the tech lab was located. It was always a slightly eerie place full of pungent smells, strange noises, and technicians in special gear walking around in booties, hats, and masks so as not to contaminate anything.

Lucky for me, Angela sat at her desk, drumming her pen as her eyes scanned through a document.

"Angela? Got something for me?"

She jumped, clutching the papers to her chest. "Shit. You scared the life out of me!"

I cringed; I could see why it could be scary down here. "Sorry," I mouthed.

She took off her glasses, rubbing at her eyes. They looked red and droopy. I knew she was under an immense amount of pressure. Her expression gave it away.

"It's okay, I'm just _really_ tired." She paused for a moment, tidying up her desk, before reaching for a file folder. "It took us a while, but we've finally identified your vic. His name was Kyle Anderson. He went missing after leaving his job as a paralegal one night. The family was asked to provide us with a sample from his toothbrush, and we confirmed what the family already knew."

I nodded, waiting for more. She knew what I wanted.

"And?"

She chewed on the inside of her lip and her eyes darted away. "There was nothing to test, Bella. Nothing. We didn't find a fingerprint, not another sample of DNA, or hair—nothing. There were no identifiable footprints, no contamination. I'm sorry, Bella. I tried. I tried so hard. I even ran all my tests again and took two separate sets of samples."

I punched my right fist into my open left palm. "Fuck."

Angela hesitated and then reached out, laying her hand on my knee. Her eyes met mine and were contrite and wary. "Bella," she said, swallowing forcefully as she squeezed my knee, "you're going to catch him, I know it."

I was instantly sorry for my reaction. Angela had just as much at stake as I did, and I had no doubt she wanted this sicko off the streets too. It wasn't my intention to insinuate that she had failed me, and I wanted her to know that.

"Ang, I—" I managed to lay my hand over hers before she interrupted me.

"I know, Bella. No apologies necessary. It's frustrating, and we all want him behind bars. Some cases are tougher than others, but they all screw up eventually. It's only a matter of time."

I could only nod. There wasn't really anything more I could say. I was drowning in feelings of disappointment, failure, and frustration.

"In the meantime, I'm helping Eric process your other crime scene. You couldn't ask for more evidence there."

All the more reasons not to get my hopes up. There's no way the same criminal would be so clean, so careful, and then make so many mistakes.

"Thanks, Angela, I'll let you get back to work."

I left the basement feeling the worst I had in days, weeks perhaps. How could a criminal be so callous and so perfect? Would he eventually make a mistake? Furthermore, was it even fair to still suspect Edward Cullen? Ultimately, I didn't care _who_ it was. I just wanted Rochester as safe as it could be.

Returning to my desk, I decided to further investigate the mystery that was Edward Cullen. I'd done a search within the state of New York, and I really didn't want to involve the FBI for a case of suspicion and nothing more, so I did what every Millennial would do.

I googled him.

Surely _something_ would have to come up: a profile on a dating or social networking site, a blog full of deep, dark secrets, or a mention in the University newspaper. I quickly typed in his name and hit 'search,' waiting to trawl through the results.

.18 seconds later, I had just a few findings.

I didn't expect the top results to be valid or hit so close to home.

_The Cullen Family celebrates at the 2008 Policeman's Ball. Pictured from left to right are: Alice Cullen, Edward Cullen…_

I quickly clicked the link.

I was met with a simple website that, perhaps, I should have been familiar with—the website for the Rochester Policeman's Ball. The page displayed several photos that were taken at a past gala event. Sure enough, several images down was the family I'd met only weeks before. The doctor and his wife were surrounded by their adopted children, all smiling perfectly, angelically, at the camera. I read the full caption.

_The Cullen Family celebrates at the 2008 Policeman's Ball. Pictured from left to right are: Alice Cullen, Edward Cullen, Dr. and Esme Cullen, Emmett Cullen, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale. The RPD thanks the family for their generous contribution._

Contribution?

I scrolled up and found the sponsors page. Sure enough, about halfway down was a large banner with a black and silver family crest on it. The ad belonged to the doctor's practice, and it was one of the larger advertisements. A larger donor.

I suddenly wanted to kick myself for not going to the ball in the last few years. Truth be told, I tried to avoid it at any cost. It wasn't tough for some of the new members of the department; we were always stuck working when senior officers wanted a night off, but I'd taken on extra work to ensure I didn't have to get dressed up and attend. A mistake, clearly.

There was only thing to do—I'd have to RSVP for this year's gala.

* * *

By late afternoon I was exhausted; I'd been awake since 4 a.m. I had the coffee jitters from the influx of caffeine into my system. I knew the crash was coming and soon. I'd checked in with Angela and Eric for the final time, and was getting ready to power down my computer when the chief's office door opened with a whoosh.

"Swan, Crowley, Newton, you've got a male vic at the pumpkin farm off Route 251. It's recent, the owners remember the guy visiting yesterday. The Tech Unit left five minutes ago."

_Yesterday_? We'd never found a victim so fresh before. Maybe he had been there with someone.

Mike, Tyler, and I all bolted into motion, gathering laptops, briefcases, jackets, and securing our weapons as we assembled near the stairwell and elevators.

Within minutes we were racing down State Highway 251 with lights and sirens blaring. I couldn't ignore the fact that this could be a huge break.

The entrance to the farm had been sealed off by the Tech Unit, the yellow tape boundary alerting everyone that a crime had taken place in this sleepy little corner of the American Dream. The rural farmland would forever be tainted by spilled blood now. Could the poor family who owned this property recover? Would their business swarm with customers this Halloween as insects do to fresh fruit, or was it over for them?

The squad cars nearly bottomed out in the deep ruts and valleys of the muddy dirt road that led the way to the rich, black fields polka-dotted with pumpkins as they neared maturity. Curling, swirling vines snaked over the earth like the yellow crime tape that wove through the trees at the edge of the pasture where the Tech Team was already setting up.

We parked the cars and began the hundred or so yard walk through the damp, shin-high weeds and grass out to the farm's boundary clearly marked by barbed wire fencing in front of the pine tree forest surrounding the property. I saw no evidence markers along the way. It had rained hard that morning, and I knew with our luck we might never find any evidence anyway, but if there was any, it probably washed away.

On the other side of the fence, draped over the lowest branch of a once-proud pine, hung a body.

As usual, the throat had been ripped out, and the body looked emaciated and grey—as though all the blood had been drained. Something had slashed through his jeans and flannel shirt, exposing the mangled skin beneath. He had long hair that had been secured at the nape of his neck and an intricate beadwork bracelet that gave away his Seneca heritage.

"I wonder who he is," Mike muttered as we stood together at the fence and allowed the Tech Unit to do their work.

I swallowed and felt the sting of tears come to my eyes as the scene hit home.

"It's my neighbor, Morgan."

* * *

**_Author's Note 2: _**EPIC thanks to the talented Duskwatcher2153 and Kisbydog for the beta. Pop over and show some support for these talented ladies and their fics too!

As always, thanks for reading. Your reviews make my day, no, WEEK! 3


	9. What's Your Poison?

**E Pov:**

"It's my neighbor, Morgan."

I heard the words Isabella uttered from my covert position in the middle of the forest where I crouched on a branch thirty-five feet off the ground.

"_That's_ your neighbor?" Detective Newton asked her incredulously. I didn't give a damn about his thoughts, but I was watching Isabella through his perspective. I took in her countenance from his thoughts; she looked defeated, guilty. Her shoulders were slouched, her head drooped, and her eyelids were heavy.

I didn't know if Isabella had put two and two together yet, but it was no coincidence that her neighbor was now strung up from a tree branch.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a sigh. "I don't really know him, he just moved in at the beginning of August. I used to live in his apartment, but when one on the outside wall opened up, I took it. He took my old apartment."

_C'mon, detective, that's too big of a coincidence._

And speaking of coincidence, I'd taken to following the detective around after our 'chance' coffee shop meet-up nearly two weeks ago. Just as we were saying our goodbyes, I smelled another vampire. A vampire who was very interested in _my_ human.

His thoughts weren't initially malicious, but he recognized Isabella from her television and newspaper appearances and the connection to the serial killings. Was he a rival for her attention? The thought enflamed me, made me see red and made venom pool beneath my tongue.

I wanted to protect what was mine. It was very juvenile, and she didn't truly belong to me—yet, but I had to protect my interests. I hadn't violated any personal space, but I wanted any interested parties to know someone else was interested. I visited her apartment building, the police department, and her car.

I'd tried tracking him as well, but he had evaded my attempts at contact. However, the body of Isabella's neighbor reeked of his scent, and it confirmed what my family believed to be true—a rogue vampire was hunting in our territory.

I wasn't about to leave Isabella Swan unprotected. Not anymore. _I_ might be a huge risk to her, but I'd rather bear the guilt of killing her because I couldn't stay away than having her killed by a serial killer because I _did_ stay away.

I knew my family was skating on thin ice with the Rochester Police Department as it was. Granted, there was always a way out of a mess, but this time it wouldn't be easy. It would definitely involve a big move, name changes, tampering with police evidence, and God knows what else. It would cause even more tension in the family. Was it worth it?

I had a feeling _she_ was worth it. I'd stand by that until the end if necessary. I couldn't stay away from her anymore, and if it put my family in the spotlight, I'd risk it. Together, we would have to figure out if all the victims were murdered by the same killer, and we would have to devise a plan to keep Isabella Swan safe. Maybe the vampire had only fed on the 'leftovers' and hadn't necessarily killed the victim. I knew that was a stretch, but the injudicious murder of vampires wasn't exactly sanctioned by the Volturi unless they were on the end doling out justice. We'd need to do our homework before taking action.

The three detectives stood waiting as the scene was photographed and the crime scene investigators looked for clues. They wouldn't find any.

"Bella, we can't ignore the fact that your neighbor was a victim. I think you should consider protective custody."

That was the first intelligent thing I'd heard Detective Newton say.

He noticed the change in her expression as her guilt and fear gave way to obstinancy. "No fucking way. It'll be fine, Mike. Who knows how my neighbor got wrapped up in this? Maybe he was abducted from work or the grocery store. There's nothing to say the killer knew where he lived."

Oh, but he does, dear, sweet Isabella.

If the vampire was in her neighbor's apartment, he could smell her delicious nectar from that short distance.

Newton shook his head. "That's not up to you to decide anymore. I'm telling the Chief. He'll decide."

He watched as Isabella's impassive face turned into a scowl, and she turned and walked away from him. Detective Newton couldn't hear what she was saying, and neither could I, but I continued to watch her through Newton's thoughts. She was animated, angrily gesturing and mumbling to herself.

"Whatever, I'm leaving," she said apropos of nothing. "Do what you have to do. Tell the chief, I don't care. Handle things here. I'm out."

Detective Newton watched as she began to walk away, not looking back as she trudged through the field and to her car at the edge of the pumpkin patch.

I _had_ to follow her.

I scrambled through the trees, leaping over limbs until I was far enough away from the detectives to drop to the forest floor and run. I had no idea where she was going, but I could follow her more easily in the country and in the forests where I had some ground cover. Once we got into the city it would be tougher. Running through the underbrush, I raced a hundred yards behind her car, desperately trying to read her thoughts for the hundredth time. I lost her for a while when we reached the city limits, and I called Alice begging for help. She agreed to meet me with my car and to start watching Isabella.

**..::..**

A little more than an hour later, I was parked outside a bar called 'The Dive' in the grittiest part of the city. It was dark now, and the lights illuminating the parking lot glowed orange.

I needed a story because there was no way on earth I'd ever visit this _establishment_ on my own.

There was no one around even as the lighted sign out front flashed that it was 'Happy Hour.' Maybe I could tell her I was looking for someplace quiet to have a drink. Oh God, I'd probably need to have a drink to keep up the story. There was nothing worse than consuming alcohol—until I needed to bring it back up.

Why was Isabella Swan here, and what would I tell her when she asked me why _I_ was here?

Against my better judgment, I got out of the car and walked to the door.

Inside the bar it was another world. Possibly the late 1960s or early 70s—because that's the last time the bar got a makeover.

The carpet was a swirling geometric pattern in reds and greens, muted by about thirty years of dirt. Wood paneling striped the walls and green glass pendant lights hung over the tables and the bar. One bulb was burnt out, and underneath it sat Isabella Swan.

Or maybe slouched was a better term. She was slumped over on her barstool, and her head rested against the faux wood bar top. She didn't react to the squeaky hinge on the door when I entered, and were it not for my vampire senses, I'd have no clue if she were alive and merely passed out, or if she were dead and now a permanent fixture at 'The Dive.'

Thankfully, in addition to the sound of her heart pumping her now-tainted, formerly delicious-smelling lifeblood, I could hear her mouthing along with the song on the old Jukebox in the corner.

"Oh mother, tell your children not to do what I have done. Spend your lives in sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun."

I couldn't help but smile as I approached her. I pulled out the barstool and sat next to her. She didn't acknowledge the movement.

The heavy bartender lumbered over from his barstool and the television in the corner and stood in front of me. He said nothing but looked on expectantly.

I settled in next to Isabella, careful not to disrupt her as she continued to hum along with the song, the tune muffled by her arms folded around her head.

The bartender coughed gruffly and pointed to me. "What's your poison?" he asked in a thick voice.

_Ha! Old man, you have no idea._

"Well, I'd say whatever the good detective here is having, but it might be a bit too strong for me."

Isabella sat up at the sound of my voice. Her eyes were bloodshot, her forehead was damp with perspiration, the tendrils of her hair were sticking to her face, and an extra button had opened on her shirt, allowing me quite the intimate view. It was too tempting to ignore; I couldn't look away.

She cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes. "Did you follow me here?"

I ignored her instead of lying to her face and turned back to the bartender. "I'll have what she's having."

He sniffed and poured a double measure of scotch and set the glass down heavily, causing some of the gold liquid slosh over the side. He walked away without wiping it up.

I turned my attention back to Isabella, hoping she'd forgotten her previous question. "Good evening, detective, rough day?"

She either didn't catch that I deflected her question or didn't care. She snorted and shook her head. "You can't imagine." Her eyes looked sad and exhausted.

"Enlighten me?" I offered, tenting my fingers over the rim of my glass.

I was surprised to discover I genuinely meant it. Tanya had suggested I get to know Isabella, and though I feared the process and had no clue how to begin, _she_ surprised _me_ by revealing some of the details of her life at the café. She told me about MSU and the academy. It might seem like small details, but _she_ volunteered them, and I wanted to know more.

Isabella narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me and then looked away, back down to her empty glass. Her eyes slid to the right, eyeing my drink.

"What the hell," she resigned, sweeping my hands aside with the back of her hand and grabbed my glass, downing it with one gulp.

In the brief moment our skin touched, I could feel the heat of her blood and flesh, and my eyes traveled from the bar top to the exposed pulse point at her neckline. I was pleased that I noticed the swell of her breasts pushing up and out of the cups of her bra before I noticed the place where her vulnerable blood throbbed in her veins. Her touch was positively electric, the sensation pulsing over my skin in a charged current. Her eyes darted between my eyes and the place where our hands touched as she downed the drink.

"My neighbor is dead," she blurted out, setting the glass down as she gulped air breathlessly after slamming the scotch. She shielded her eyes with her hand.

"Jesus," I gasped, recovering from the heat of her touch. I'm sure she thought the reaction was genuine and about the death of her neighbor. I quickly redirected my attention to her admission. "I'm sorry. Was it the serial killer? Were you and your neighbor friends?"

She shook her head, still hiding behind her hands. "I didn't know him well. At all, really. Just typical pleasantries, you know? Yeah, it was our killer, but you didn't hear that from me. Next of kin hasn't been notified yet."

I shook my head even though she wasn't looking. It was beyond unfortunate—even though it was natural and inevitable for my kind. I didn't want someone near _my_ human. The death of this man I didn't know made me guiltily acknowledge what I already knew—taking a human life affected so many people. Not only the family left behind, but friends and neighbors, even detectives assigned to the murder or missing person's case. It incited fear in the general public and made people worry about their own families. Only now that someone I knew and… _cared for_ was in danger, could I see what made Carlisle choose a different lifestyle so many centuries ago.

"Would now be a good time to provide you with my alibi?"

She dropped her hands and looked over at me. "Do you think you should?"

I shook my head. "I didn't kill your neighbor, Ms. Swan, but if you need me to account for my whereabouts—"

She scowled and shook her head as though she was annoyed. If I could read her mind I was sure I'd discover I was right. "No, I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing," she grumbled.

I wished that I could tell her she was wrong about me, but she had labeled me correctly from day one. I was a killer. I had a history, and no matter how I tried to run from my past, it was forever blemished. My scarlet letter would have read 'A Positive.'

She looked at me with a burning intensity in her eyes, catching me totally off guard with her boldness. I watched the way her lips formed the words. "Buy me a drink."

It was an order, not a request.

I knocked on the bar to get the bartender's attention away from the TV in the corner. "Two more."

He grunted and nodded at the bottle.

I leaned over the counter and retrieved the bottle of low end liquor from the shelf behind the bar and poured half a glass for Isabella and half a glass for myself.

"So why The Dive, Ms. Swan? How did you stumble upon this _treasure_?"

Her lip hitched up a little but fell just as quickly. "When I first moved here, I lived in this shitty apartment down the street. I didn't have a car, and this was the closest bar within walking distance."

I nodded and pretended to take a drink. "So you moved here from Michigan? Is that home?"

She tipped back her own glass and drained it, wincing and twitching as she set the tumbler back down. "Man, that's rough. Um, no, not home, just where I went to school."

More info! It was no problem to remember the tiny details, so I filed this piece away too. "So where's home?"

She looked at me skeptically, arching an eyebrow as though weighing if the decision to tell me was prudent.

"Washington."

"Seattle?"

"No."

_Okay_…

Were we through with sharing?

Her expression softened a little, and she angled her body to face me, exposing the Glock on her right hip. "What about you, are you from Rochester?"

This was normal, right? Conversing? I was walking a fine line with how much I could share, but I still wanted to talk with her.

"Don't you know, detective? Didn't you dig into my history?"

I _had_ to force her hand a little and find out what she knew.

She snorted. "No, I just did a simple background check."

I turned on my stool to face her and pretended to take another drink.

"I'm from Chicago."

"We used to go there on weekends in college sometimes. We'd hop the train."

I tried to imagine her with a group of giggling sorority girls, but I couldn't. There was something off about her. She was wounded somehow.

"So what made you decide to be a detective anyway?" I couldn't wait to hear this story. I gave her my full attention, propping my elbow against the bar and leaning against my hand.

She shook her head emphatically. "No. You don't get to ask that."

She turned away from me again and seemed to get even smaller than she already was. She drew in on herself and looked back down to the bar top, scratching her nail into the faux wood.

Damn.

We sat in silence for some time as I struggled to figure out something to say. Could I pretend as if it didn't happen? Pursue it? Would I ever be able to put together the puzzle that was Isabella Swan? Normally I had humans figured out in mere moments, and I usually didn't like what I saw, but this woman was different. Not only could I not read her mind, but I could tell she was unique. I wanted to know why and what made her that way. I wasn't privy to the expression on her face—her wavy hair separated me from her expression—but I watched as her broken fingernail traced the word 'FUCK' carved into the bar.

I needed to break the ice again.

I realized the same song had played on the Jukebox for the seventh time in a row. "There must be something wrong with the jukebox. The song has played over and over," I observed, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the Wurlitzer in the corner with the glowing façade.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and smirked. "No, there's no mistake. You can get a million plays for a couple bucks."

Clearly, I was batting a thousand with Isabella tonight. "Fan of The Animals, are you?" I remembered when the song was first popular… in 1964.

The smile disappeared and the curtain of hair separated us once again. "Sorta. It just reminds me of my dad. He died when I was seven. My mom died in a car accident when I was twelve."

Oh hell.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

She shrugged. "It's okay. You couldn't have known."

This explained the sadness in her. The deep wound. It was a wound I bore too, but I didn't really remember the pain I felt; the pain that still haunted Isabella every day. We finally had common ground. I might not remember the details, but I could imagine what my life would be like without Carlisle, Esme, and my siblings. I had experienced a life without them, and I was no good. It was time for me to reveal a piece of my puzzle too.

"I lost my parents too," I confessed.

She angled herself toward me once again. "One of my co-workers told me that. I'm sorry too. The Cullens seem nice though."

I nodded. We were far from ordinary, but there was something special about us. "Yes, I'm lucky to have them. Where did you go, you know, _after_?"

"I refused to stay in the town where I lost my dad, so my mom and I moved around a bit. We went to California near where my grandma lived. My gran died the year before my mom, so after my mom was gone I went into foster care."

She was alone in the world. I couldn't hide the sympathy and sadness I felt for her.

She seemed to pick up on my pity, and her eyes locked onto mine for a split second before blushing and looking away. "Foster care wasn't awful, just lonely. Did you go into foster care?"

I shook my head. "No, I met Carlisle before my parents died. He took me in right away." I felt guilty admitting it. I felt even guiltier for how horribly I'd treated my family at times. They'd always reached out to me, and I'd retreated in on myself more times than I could count. Someday I would make it up to them.

She nodded in understanding, and I felt like she _could_ understand. Emmett, Rose, Alice, and Jasper all left their families behind, but they were alive and well. I lost my family.

"You didn't have any family either?" Isabella asked quietly, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass.

"Nope."

She simply nodded again. I liked that she didn't need to fill the void of silence with apologies. I'm sure she'd heard them all before too, half-hearted sympathy from strangers who didn't even know her family or situation. This time we fell into a much more comfortable silence. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I couldn't help but wonder about the details. She didn't tell me how her father died.

"You're kind of a lightweight, you know," she teased, a slight smile on her lips as she pointed to my drink.

I smiled in return and pretended to take another sip. The smell of the alcohol was strong and bitter but like the coffee at the café, it helped mask the scent of the human blood ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm distracted, Detective Swan."

She grabbed the bottle of scotch and began pouring. "By what?" she asked.

I reached for my drink and gently swirled the smoky, earthy-smelling liquid around in the glass. "You," I answered, looking sideways at her.

She blushed the most delicious shade of red and spilled some of the liquid on the bar when her hand trembled. She tried to bite back a smile but her eyes still registered the delight of the compliment. "You can call me Bella if you want to."

"There's nothing I'd like more."

**..::..**

An hour later, Bella was two sheets to the wind. She nearly fell off her barstool when she came back from the Ladies Room.

"Yooo know, yur kinda priddy," she slurred, reaching for the almost-empty bottle of scotch.

I laughed. "So I've been told. Thank you. I think it might be best if I saw you home now, Bella."

The rational part of sober Bella would be appalled, but I would follow her home with or without her permission. Having her permission, however, would make me feel like far less of a pervert.

She looked at me skeptically, arching her eyebrows as she weighed my offer. "Awright," she relented, "but no funny bidness."

I placed my right palm over my dead heart and looked directly in her eyes. "I can assure you, Bella, the business I want to take up with you is anything but funny."

She didn't seem to pick up on my double-entendre as she patted her pockets and looked around the floor for, I assumed, her purse. I indulged her momentary panic while I retrieved a hundred dollar bill from the money clip in my suit jacket pocket and set it under the almost-empty bottle of liquor. It covered the cost of the cheap scotch five times over.

"Come, Bella, let's go." I took her by the elbow and began to lead her out of the bar.

"What? But—" she protested, digging her heels in and attempting to turn back around.

I waved to the bartender and he saw the cash I'd put down for the scotch. "I paid the tab. Let's look in the car for your purse."

It felt good to have my hands on her. It was the most contact we'd ever had, and I could feel the warmth of her skin through her shirt and the jacket.

She stumbled several times and weaved as she walked next to me. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd probably be angry and impatient, but with her I found it endearing. She staggered out the door with me into the night and wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning her head against my shoulder. I felt lighter despite carrying her extra weight.

Thank God hers and mine were the only cars in the gravel lot; there's no way I could let her 'lead' me to her car in the state she was in.

"Give me your keys, Bella."

I held onto her tighter as she fished through her pockets again. I could smell the metal and hear the faint jingling sound with every step as they shifted against her left hip.

"If you drive me home, how are you going to get home?" she mumbled, producing the keys.

I took them from her, letting my fingers linger on hers in the exchange. "No worries, Bella," I said, depressing the unlock button on the key fob. "A Chevy? You do your Michigan heritage a justice."

She wasn't listening. Instead, she separated herself from me, pressed her face to the windshield of the car, and cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in.

"It's there!" she hollered triumphantly with a lazy fist pump.

"Spectacular," I answered dryly and opened the passenger door.

She climbed in, flopping down on the seat with a loud "Oof!"

I chuckled, shutting the door behind her as she settled herself, and I walked around to the driver's door. I let myself in, feeling nearly-uncontrollable fear and an illicit excitement at being in a confined personal space. Could I be alone with her when she smelled so delectable?

I adjusted the seat and noticed that she had slumped against the door and rested her head on the window. I reached over her body to the seat belt. Inhaling deeply, I drew the safety belt across her chest and secured it at her hip. The relative warmth and closeness of the car made me excited as a vampire and as a man. I could hear and smell her pulse beating and see all the still-exposed skin from her gaping shirt. The swell of her breasts rose and fell with every breath. She was intoxicating.

"Bella, where is your apartment?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

She mumbled out some convoluted directions and, had I not known where she lived, there'd be no way I could follow her instructions.

As she dozed, I drove faster than I should have with a cop in such close proximity. I looked over at the woman sleeping against the door. There was so much I didn't know about her, and vice versa, but tonight made me fully realize that I wanted to know everything; I wanted her to let me in.

Hearing that she too was an orphan went a long way to explain the pain behind her eyes, but I felt Ms. Isabella Swan still had a secret or two.

I parked in the same spot I'd seen her car every other time I'd stopped by. I thought the jarring motion of putting the car in park would awaken her, but it didn't.

Quietly, I crept from the car and shut the door with care before walking around to the passenger side. I warily cracked the door and reached in to steady her. Again, I thought she'd awaken, but she continued to snore softly. I gently lifted her from the seat, situating her gently in my arms and grabbed her purse from the floorboard.

I inhaled deeply, seeking out an unfamiliar scent—the scent that lingered on the discarded body of Bella's neighbor. The rain earlier in the morning had washed away anything concrete, but perhaps I could smell something upstairs.

I carried Bella up the stairs at the rear of her building. There was no gate, and anyone could have access to the upper floor. This left me unsettled.

I retrieved the keys from my pocket and unlocked her door, careful not to disrupt her sleep. I toed the door open, noting how dark it was inside. I didn't need the light, but I didn't like that she lived in darkness either; dark creatures lingered where light was absent. While more light couldn't sway a determined vampire, a well lit apartment might keep her safe from human criminals.

I turned on the nearest light, mindful not to jostle Bella too much and looked around. It was the first time I'd seen the interior of her apartment.

It was beyond neat. Spartan. There were few personal touches of any kind—no artwork on the walls, no knick-knacks, no pet to greet her at the door. The only details that hinted that the woman in my arms lived there was an empty wine bottle on the counter top, a magazine subscription to Guns and Ammo, and a pair of running shoes, still tied.

Again, it seemed like a sad life.

I felt guilty. How many times had I bemoaned my own existence? At least I _had_ a family who cared for me and who could forgive my mistakes.

I dropped Bella's purse on the coffee table by the couch and softly lowered her to the brown leather sofa. I simply stood, watching her sleep. Even in slumber she held my rapt fascination. She looked uncomfortable in her jacket and holster. There was little I could do about one, but I could do something about the other.

Slowly, cautiously, I reached for the weapon on her hip, letting my fingers trail over the curve of her hipbone. I afforded myself a momentary fantasy, imagining my hands curled around her pelvis as she straddled my body. I flipped open the leather strap securing the gun to its sheath. Before I could react to the accelerated heart rate and change of breath, Bella's hand was on mine.

"Don't. Touch. My. Gun."

Her voice was firm, serious, and she was suddenly quite sober.

I was taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I was on my way out—you were—I didn't think you should sleep on it."

I'd stammered. Fucking stammered.

She scrubbed her hands over her face and tugged at her hair. "Thanks."

I noticed she didn't apologize as she rose and unbuckled the belt from around her narrow waist. Without a second glance, she moved to hang the belt from a shelf by the door.

"Thanks for the ride home. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drank so much." She shook her head and walked to the door.

It was true, she shouldn't have. There were men out there who could harm her—wasn't I proof enough?

"Of course," I said, picking up on her hint that I should go. "Thank you for the enlightening evening. You're still an enigma, Bella Swan."

She smirked and opened the door. "Good night."

I returned her smile and gave her a wink as I stepped past her and into the hall. "Good night."

She bit back a smile and closed the door behind me. I stood in the corridor until I heard her lock the door. Silently, I listened to Bella and her neighbors go about their evening routine. I heard Bella shrug out of her jacket and stumble down the hall before flopping down on her bed. It was only a few minutes before I heard the rustle of covers and her heart slow and her breathing even out, indicating she was asleep.

A quick listen told me that the majority of the other tenants were also sleeping or too busy to care what someone on the second floor was doing.

Silently, I crept back to the stairwell and looked around to ensure no one was looking before I scaled the building up to the roof. I ran along until I found what I guessed was Bella's bedroom window, and then I went one window more. I jumped down onto the narrow ledge. I suspected another vampire would go through the window and it would still be unlocked. Furthermore, most people who lived on upper floors didn't bother locking their windows; especially if they didn't have a fire escape.

I slowly pushed open the window and slipped inside the dark apartment of Morgan Parker.

The first thing I noticed was the absence of blood. Whatever happened to Mr. Parker, it didn't happen here. I did notice a distinctly vampire smell; different than the scent on the body however.

As I moved from room to room in the relative darkness, I contemplated the options. Were there multiple vampires feeding? Were they just sloppy? Was this human killed because of his affiliation with vampires?

I knew two things for sure. If the Rochester PD showed up they wouldn't find any clues. Vampires didn't leave behind any DNA: no hair, no finger prints, no saliva. While vampires had some sort of biological essence in their venom, humans couldn't analyze it with the technology or knowledge they possessed. They wouldn't know what the venom was, or where it came from, if they had a gallon.

The other thing I knew was that the Volturi, if they caught wind of this sloppy rogue, would be making a visit to Rochester. I didn't want them here while Bella was busy poking around in a case that involved vampires, even if she wasn't aware of it. The Volturi would waste no opportunity to take her out if they thought she knew anything.

I slipped back out the window and crouched on the ledge as I gently slid it shut behind me. An unbidden thought came to me suddenly, and I tried to resist the dangerous notion even as it began to solidify in my mind.

I had two choices: demonstrate my personal strength or give in to my weakness.

I gave in.

I leapt across to Bella's window ledge to press my luck.

Like Morgan Parker's, her window was unlocked. I was floored a detective didn't know better.

I quietly lifted the old window and eased inside Bella's bedroom. I could hear her slow, even breaths made even slower by the amount of alcohol she had drank. I stood listening to the rhythm of her heart, allowing each beat to increase my resistance to her. Instead of focusing on the smell, I listened to the melody. At first it had merely been something physical. The way my body reacted to her was unlike any other. I'd wanted her physically for my pleasure, and I knew she would taste better than any human I'd ever encountered, and I had the taste of bad blood on my tongue. I wanted to taste her first one way and then the other.

But something had changed since she began sharing the minutiae of her life. I was craving her now in an entirely different way. I wanted to keep her talking, I wanted her to know me—the real me—and I wanted to know the real her and win her over at any cost.

Resisting the temptation to look at her, I crept through the apartment to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, I found several narrow bottles of water—and little else—and retrieved one. Taking a deep breath, I smelled what else I needed.

In the cabinet above the sink were pill bottles, dozens of them. Some were over the counter drugs, some prescriptions. I quickly read the labels; pills for depression, for pain, for dreamless sleep. Yes, Ms. Swan had secrets. I located a bottle of over the counter pain relievers.

Before returning to the bedroom, I took the opportunity to snoop a bit. A black and purple invitation was tacked to the calendar and bulletin board on the side of her kitchen cabinet. An invitation I'd seen before. The annual Policeman's Ball was being held October 23, and my family had an invite as well. Bella's R.S.V.P. was marked with a hasty-looking 'X' to confirm she was attending and where the number of attendees was questioned, she indicated '1.' Well, I guess it was time to make sure my tuxedo was still in vogue.

A leather briefcase leaned against the leg of a small dining table between the kitchen and living room. It might be my one chance to see if Bella had any insight into the case she wasn't sharing with me and my father or with the media. I retrieved the bag and set the files atop the counter space, lazily flipping through the manila folder looking for something to catch my eye.

She'd interviewed any and everyone who had close connections with her victims, and while all of them had skeletons in their closet, nothing tied multiple victims together. She had some theories that were far-fetched… or were they? An email exchange with her friend Angela about a Chupacabra wasn't all that far off.

The last page in the file related the day we'd first encountered one another in the café. I inhaled deeply, remembering the day.

As I packed up the papers, I realized the detective had nothing on me except her own intuition, and that was far more accurate than I'd like. At least I knew my family was safe—for now.

I took the bottle of water and the pills and returned down the hall to Bella's bedroom. I tread softly over the floor and deposited the hangover remedy on the table next to her bed. It was only then that I afforded myself my first look at her in slumber.

She was on her back with one hand in the middle of her chest, the other resting on the pillow beside her head. She had shrugged out of her jacket and left it on the floor. Another of the buttons on her shirt had popped open and revealed a black bra underneath. She'd kicked off the covers—and her jeans, leaving her legs bare. She wore bright green underwear with zebra stripes. The revelation of so much skin not only made venom pool beneath my tongue and my pants get tight, but it offered more insight into the enigma. I could see two tattoos I'd not previously seen. The number 328 was inked in navy blue with gold accents over her heart, and a pair of handcuffs was tattooed on her left hip.

My body had no choice but to react to her. I stifled a groan and adjusted myself as I forced my eyes away from the intimately-inked places. I curled a lock of her sweaty hair around my index finger and swept it aside. Bella whimpered and turned her head. She was beyond beautiful and addicting; I needed to leave.

I climbed back through the window and eased it shut behind me. I needed to hunt, but I would stay until dawn. I prayed that if I hunted it would be easier to be around Bella.

I was eager for my eyes to return to their formerly golden hue.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_** EPIC thanks to kisbydog08 and duskwater2153 for the WONDERFUL beta work. Your work is so appreciated.

A side note, someone nominated me for a Hopeless Romantic Award under my other id: Scarlett71177. I was nominated for my Carlisle-centric fic "Radiant Possibility." To whoever nominated me- THANK YOU. Seriously, a BIG thank you from the bottom of my heart. This means the world to me. If anyone cares to vote for me, you can find the Blogspot here: www (dot) hopelessromanticawards (dot) blogspot (dot) com Voting begins July 18.


	10. Reservations

_**Thank you to Kisbydog08 and Duskwatcher2153 for the beta. You are so appreciated.**_

* * *

As my cell alarm rang somewhere in the distance, I was vaguely aware of a dull pounding in the front of my head. I could feel my pulse throb in my brain and in my eyelids, and I was terrified to actually open my eyes for fear the pain would be ten times worse.

My alarm went to snooze, and I was grateful for the silence. My mouth and throat were as dry as a Cabernet, and I decided in my haze that I wanted a drink—of anything—and hash browns. I dozed for several more minutes before the alarm went off again. I had no clue how many times it had already gone off.

Groaning, I opened my eyes hesitantly and then promptly closed them tight when the harsh daylight hit my retinas, making the headache intensify. I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and peered through the gap in my fingers.

On my nightstand, next to the glowing alarm clock I never used, were a bottle of water and my bottle of pain relievers. Did I put them there? It seemed unlikely. Yesterday evening I walked off a crime scene, went to the bar, and rode home with Edward Cullen.

_EDWARD CULLEN._

I sat up abruptly, and the room began to spin violently. I closed my eyes as my bedroom seemed to tilt and turn counter-clockwise. "Oh Christ," I lamented, clutching my head, willing the vertigo to pass.

Okay, okay, I needed to think. What in the hell happened last night? Was I alone?

I eased back down onto the mattress and committed to lying perfectly still for the next few minutes, alarm be damned. I slid my hand across the bed and felt the coldness of the sheets. I _thought_ I was alone, that was a good sign. Okay, I needed to fill in the details my brain was so obviously forgetting. I remembered sitting in The Dive and seeing Edward walk in. Things were coming back to me slowly but surely.

We talked, really talked, and I opened up to him—as much as I could tolerate anyway. I couldn't say why I felt so compelled to share the intimate workings of my life with him, but he seemed trustworthy somehow. Interested. It turned out we had more in common than I would have previously thought. We'd both experienced huge losses in our lives, and it seemed like both of us struggled to find someone who understood.

And for the first time, I felt like _maybe_ someone did. At least on some level.

I leaned up against the headboard, snagged the bottle of pain killers and popped off the child-resistant cap. I tipped the bottle up and tapped my finger on the rim. The two pills I expected to tumble out of the container were followed by three more, so I took all five of them.

The pills dissolved on my tongue, causing me to shudder as I struggled to break the seal on my generic brand bottle of water. Cool relief finally met my tongue and washed away the bitter, metallic taste of the pills and quenched my dry mouth and throat that was courtesy of last night's drinking.

I sat up, more slowly this time, and rested on the edge of my bed. I definitely remembered Edward bringing me home. I remembered the feeling of his hands on my hips as he tried to relieve me of my gun belt; the feeling was beyond dangerous—and titillating. I dug my toes into the carpet and exhaled slowly, willing myself to forget the sensation. I still couldn't rule Edward out as a suspect. But God, it felt so amazing every time we touched. His skin was cold and firm, but I seemed to feel a jolt from him with every hint of contact. He hummed with static electricity, and I wondered what it would feel like over other areas of my body. I thought about the strength of his arms beneath me as he carried me upstairs. The intensity in his gaze dovetailed with the intensity of his touch.

I remembered saying goodnight at the door, watching him stand in the hallway with his hands tucked in his pockets in a fucking adorable gesture. He seemed… different last night. Dr. Jekyll had returned again, but how long would it be before Edward Hyde revisited?

My alarm chose that moment to ring once again. My knees wobbled as I rose to my feet and clutched at the nightstand for support. I shuffled down the hall, ghosting my hand over the wall to balance myself. I blinked against the early morning light and realized how thirsty I was once again. I'd sell a kidney for a giant iced tea with a lemon.

My cell was on the couch where Edward had laid me down after carrying me in last night.

_Oh Jesus, he carried me in!_

I grabbed my phone and silenced the annoying alarm before slumping down on the couch. It was 6:15 a.m. and I had no work-related texts—which was a blessing and curse. No texts probably meant there was nothing worth pursuing at the crime scene.

_Crime scene. God, my neighbor was dead._

I didn't care what Mike suggested about me being too close to the crime, I was going to pursue this. What danger did he think I could be in? If the murderer was targeting me somehow, random people across Rochester didn't need to die. He would specifically pick off people closer to me and take me out at the end. Mike was _looking_ for trouble where it didn't exist.

I brewed some tea while I got dressed and gathered my hair into a ponytail. I was going to plead my case to the chief and ask him to let me stay on the case—before Mike got to work.

I poured my steeped tea into a travel thermos with ice and set about gathering my things. I grabbed the long-overdue RSVP for the Policeman's Ball and sighed. _I really ought to turn that in_. I'd remember to drop it off if I put it in my bag. I looked around; my briefcase was leaning against the table leg. When I swung it over my shoulder I was met with an incredibly sweet, addicting smell—like caramel or candied pecans. _Edward_. My mind lurched forward, flashing with an excess of missing memories from last night: his hands on my body as he carried me upstairs to my apartment, his hand on my hip as he attempted to remove my holster and a caress to my hair—no, that must have been a dream.

_I need to get out of here_.

I grabbed my drink, my briefcase, my purse, and stopped at the door to get my gun down from the shelf. I fastened it around my waist and fished my keys out of my purse as I opened the door. On the other side of the threshold was a small box wrapped in brown paper.

I stopped cold, dropping my bags and keys.

Was Mike right? Was I a target?

I forced myself to swallow, and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. What would it be then—a bomb? A plume of white powder? God only knows what might be inside that box.

Slowly, I stooped to a crouch and peered down at the square box without touching it. My name was printed on the package with a black marker, but there was no return address. Instead, the package bore the logo of a local home improvement store with a sticker that said "_Sorry we missed you_."

The store was owned by a local family, and it was obviously hand-delivered since there was no postage on the box. Was it safe? Was I being stupid? Maybe it was a promotional item. Maybe I had ordered something and forgotten about it.

I leaned out and looked down the hall in both directions to see if anyone else had a package on their doorstep too, but there was nothing.

This certainly didn't fit the method of operation that the killer had used in the past.

Before I knew it, I grabbed the package and tore off the brown paper wrapping. Inside was a note taped to a light timer.

A light timer?

Oh God, a bomb?

I gingerly unfolded the yellow legal paper as my heart began to race and noticed the penmanship was in stark contrast to that on the wrapping. It wasn't a long note, but I couldn't resist; I looked to the bottom of the page and saw Edward Cullen's perfect signature.

_Bella,_

_You of all people should know what lurks in the dark. Do a guy a favor and leave a light on, will you?_

_Yours,_

_Edward_

He was trying to tell me I needed a light in my apartment? I came home to a dark place every night. No biggie.

It was kind of sweet that he cared, though.

I gathered up my bags again and locked up before hurrying downstairs to the car. I tossed my bags inside and sat down, realizing how far away from the pedals and steering wheel I was. What the hell?

Oh yeah, Edward Cullen.

I sighed, adjusted the seat, and hurried into the office.

**..::..**

Third shift was just finishing up as the elevator doors opened and I raced through the department, nodding and waving at my fellow officers.

"Hey, Bella, what are you doing here so early?"

I threw my stuff into my cubicle and turned to see who was addressing me.

"Oh, hey, Steve, just getting a head start today. Any news on the crime scene Newton and Crowley were at last night?"

Steve McMillan was a nice enough guy. Too nice for me. He'd made a pass at me a few times, but I always tried to let him down gently.

"Nah, not yet. Tech Unit worked on it all night."

I stood by my earlier guess; it probably wasn't good news. "Ah well. Chief in?"

Steve shook his head. "No, he called in last night. His daughter had an emergency appendectomy last night. He isn't coming in today."

_Fucking jackpot!_

I tried to contain my smile as I ducked into my cubicle and booted up my computer. "That's too bad. Hey, have a nice day, Steve. I've got some shit to do."

I didn't watch him walk away. Instead, I began researching my neighbor, Morgan Parker.

A simple Google search gave me a nudge in the right direction. I was correct in identifying him as a Seneca, and it turned out he was very involved with the tribe as a historian. A tribal website featured photos of him at various events in the area.

This was good. He was involved with society, not like Saffire, who only had connections with people who didn't want to talk.

I printed off some addresses to different tribal places and checked with Steve to make sure Morgan's next of kin had been notified. When he confirmed they had, I hurried out of the building via the stairwell to bypass Mike. Climbing back into my car, I set off for the reservation.

It was about a two hour drive from the station, which afforded me some time to think about the last twenty-four hours.

I didn't know what to do with this new Edward Cullen I'd met. He was considerate, polite, and he seemed interested in me as a person. While I'm sure plenty of serial killers had similar M.O.'s, he knew where I lived and we had been alone. Serial killers took delight in playing games with their victims, but most would take advantage of an opening if one arose. The man just didn't seem to mesh with my notion of a serial killer anymore. Maybe I was getting too close to my suspect. Or maybe he wasn't my suspect at all. Maybe I had just been looking for a way to bring him into my life.

Getting involved wouldn't do me any good either. I wasn't the type to get involved because guys didn't stay. Guys got turned off by the odd hours, preoccupation with strange cases—murders, missing people, and stories with sad outcomes—and then there was me and my preoccupation with my own sad story. Edward Cullen wouldn't stick around.

I saw the sign for Exit 20 and followed the directions to the Seneca Museum. There were only a few cars outside, but a bus from a school in Olean was out front and letting off a group of high school students.

I parked at the very end of the lot and prepped myself before going in. I reorganized some paperwork, turned my cell to silent—ignoring the unread texts—and took a gulp of my now lukewarm iced tea. I climbed out of the car with my briefcase under my arm and began the short walk up to the building. It was likely that these people didn't know that poor Morgan was dead yet, but hopefully they could shed some light on the quiet, polite man who'd lived next door to me.

When I entered the museum, I easily found the gift shop and front desk where a young woman sat texting, proudly declaring her heritage by wearing a Turtle Clan hoodie. It was an interesting picture of ancient history and modernity.

I produced my badge from the lanyard around my neck and showed it to the girl. "I'm Detective Swan from the Rochester Police Department. Would anyone be available to speak regarding Morgan Parker?"

From the moment I introduced myself, she seemed to know what I would say. Her eyes pooled with tears, and she said something softly in a language I didn't understand. I saw she bore a beautifully beaded name tag, not unlike Morgan's bracelet, that read "Michelle." She must have already heard the news.

"Keith Blackbird worked with Morgan on tribal histories. He's leading a tour through the museum right now."

I dug a five dollar bill out from my pocket. "Could I tag along and listen?"

She nodded, waving away my money. "Of course."

I looked at her face, wanting to remember her. Today was a day that changed her life, it would never be the same. Though I had sympathy for the victims, death no longer saddened me in that same way. It was merely a statistic. It was unavoidable. This girl, however, must have known Morgan and truly felt the loss, the absence of him.

"I'm truly sorry," I offered, temporarily pocketing the money and giving her a sympathetic smile.

I left her in peace, dropping my money in the "Future Projects" donation box near the gift shop entrance and slipped into the museum behind the tour group.

No one questioned my presence as I hovered at the edge of the group. Perhaps the students thought I was an employee of the museum, perhaps Keith Blackbird thought I was a tardy chaperone. Like the students, I listened with rapt attention to the presentation about early Seneca history: origin stories, how clans were inspired by the animals, the cultural arts, and the longhouse exhibit and what life was like during the fall harvest.

Near the end of the tour, the students filed into a small, semi-circular auditorium for lectures and films. I took a seat at the very back. It was a beautiful room, not unlike sitting around a campfire. Fake trees and branches formed a canopy and the ceiling was alight with twinkling stars and shooting comets. Hidden speakers played sounds of crickets chirping, loons calling, and a fire crackling and popping. Other props adorned the walls—fur pelts, baskets, and intricately beaded belts in white and purple, among other things. My eyes drifted around the room in wonder until Keith Blackbird began to speak.

"Our community is very in tune with the seasons and telling stories is how we've passed our history from generation to generation. But we take our cues from Anglo culture too. Your holiday of Halloween, which is in a couple weeks, is a time for scary stories. The Seneca too have stories that involve monsters that can be shared around a campfire."

Keith stood before his audience, relaxed, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up exposing his forearms. He wore a Seneca Nation T-shirt beneath the flannel. His hair was shorter but feathered against his collar, and his eyes were a warm reddish-brown.

The students snickered or scoffed and settled in as Keith began to recount the story of two brothers who hunted and built a house together.

"One day the elder brother demanded they partition the house and each live in their own half. Neither brother would enter the home of the other."

"Ooh, scary!" one of the boys mocked, causing a round of laughter. Keith Blackbird smiled too.

"The elder brother said '_You_ can hunt birds and animals, but _I_ will hunt people.'"

I felt inexplicably cold suddenly and my spine shuddered with a shiver.

"'Neither of us will marry or bring a woman into the house. If _I_ do, you must try to kill me. If _you_ do, I will kill you.'"

Keith took on the voice of his character; his tone bore a hint of malice. His brow furrowed and his lip sneered. The students were quiet now, their attention piqued and focused on the man before them.

"The men lived for some time, abiding by the rule. One day while the men were out hunting, a woman came to the younger brother's part of the house. The elder brother returned first, tracked the woman down, caught her, and ate her." Keith smirked and licked his lips.

My palms were clammy. His storytelling was so convincing. I actually felt nervous, scared, like prey. Even though I was in a room full of people, it was so easy to get caught up in the moment.

The kids gasped as well; their eyes were wide and their mouths hung open.

Keith was an excellent storyteller. He paused at all the right places and put tonal inflection on the right words.

"It happened many times. The younger brother warned the next woman who visited never to open the door to anyone.

"One day, while the woman visited, the elder brother knocked on the door asking for spare arrows to shoot a bear. The woman did not move from her place by the fire despite his urging. He eventually left, and the younger brother returned. The woman whispered, telling the younger brother what happened. The older brother overheard them and hollered out 'Who are you whispering to? Do you have a woman in there?'

"The younger brother knew a life and death struggle was coming. He told the woman they would battle and asked her for help. Knowing the elder brother would make himself look like the younger brother, the younger brother urged the woman to strike if she could. The woman tied a piece of squash shell to the younger brother's hair in hopes of differentiating the two men."

Keith Blackbird began to move around the room as he spoke, making eye contact with the kids. "In the morning, the two brothers met and began to fight with clubs and knives and eventually wrestling and grappling on the ground." Keith punctuated his words with bashing and stabbing motions making several of the kids lean back away from him.

"Both men urged the woman to strike the other. Unsure whom to strike because they looked identical, she finally spied the squash shell hidden in her man's hair and hit the elder brother over the head, killing him." Keith clutched at an invisible rock, sneaking up on one of the students who was busy texting and pretended to bash her over the head with the rock.

"Then, they burned the body on a pyre and scattered the ashes."

"Whoa!" a boy exclaimed as several of the girls cringed and shrieked "Ew!"

Keith shook his finger at the students. "But our story isn't over. The younger brother knew his brother would come back to life so the young man turned his woman into a cattail and shot her like an arrow with his bow." He stood behind one of the spotlights and drew his arm back as though he was drawing a bow.

"The young brother ran ahead and found where the cattail landed. He turned it back into the woman and they ran off. The next morning they heard the elder brother call out. The young brother transformed the woman into a tree stump, while he bewitched his moccasins to run ahead and lead the elder brother on the wrong path. They fooled him for one day before he turned back realizing he'd been tricked. He followed the real footprints." Keith feigned tracking imaginary footprints and pursued them around the room, in and amongst the students.

"The elder brother continued to chase his younger brother and the woman, but each time he got close, the younger brother outwitted him.

"Finally, the younger brother came upon his own family, the Frost and Great Cold People, and they vowed to stop the elder brother. When the older brother arrived, they beat him to death with turtle rattles, hammering flesh from bone."

At this, Keith Blackbird grabbed one of the many props around the room, a turtle shell fashioned like a maraca, and began to dance, rattling the turtle shell to keep tempo.

"The young man was reunited with his mother who said the elder brother stole the younger brother away as a boy. The younger brother and his wife stayed with his family and lived a happy life."

The students clapped when Keith finished and took a bow. It was an amazing presentation. One that gave me chills for sure.

"Any questions?"

Several hands shot up immediately, and Keith pointed at one of the girls.

"So, they were like, vampires or something?"

"No, dummy, they were cannibals!"

Keith sighed. "It is true that sometimes people of the Iroquois Confederacy did eat human flesh. Sometimes it was religious, sometimes they ate a ritualistic piece of their enemy to absorb their spirit, and sometimes they were just hungry. However, it was not prevalent. Anglo myths and legends contain people building houses out of gingerbread, carriages from pumpkins, or witches that ate children. Should we assume that is the norm?"

The students seemed to understand, nodding and shrugging.

"So what _is_ the point of the story, Mr. Blackbird?" one girl asked.

"Some of it is entertainment value, and some is a lesson, just like your myths and legends. Don't open the door to strangers, think ahead, and use what you have. Sometimes, they just needed a story to explain the world they saw around them. Or, who knows, maybe it's true!" He laughed heartily, and some of the kids laughed with him, while others weren't so sure he was being funny.

With the lecture finished, the teacher escorted her students out of the auditorium and told them they could have thirty minutes in the gift shop. I hung back, waiting, as Keith put away his turtle shell and tidied up behind the students.

"Excuse me, Mr. Blackbird?"

"Oh! Hi, did you have a question?"

He had a friendly smile and stood boyishly, tucking a hand in his jeans pocket as he waited for me to approach.

"No, well, yes, sort of. I'm Isabella Swan from the Rochester Police Department. I wondered if we could speak regarding Morgan Parker."

The easy smile on his handsome face faded into a somber sigh. "Oh, Morgan," he lamented. "Sure, we can talk. Mind if we talk outside?"

I shrugged. "That's fine."

We walked back through the lobby, watching the students buying bracelets, T-shirts, and books in the gift shop. I was glad they had been exposed to some local culture.

We exited through the main doors and to the right, around the side of the building where a garden was planted in an elaborate Seneca design. Keith sad down on a marble bench, and I followed suit.

"I'm sorry to be here today under these circumstances. It's beautiful," I said, shielding my eyes with my hand and looking out at the garden.

"You've never been here before?" he asked interestedly.

"No, I'm from Washington State. I spent some time on the Quileute Reservation when I was little."

Keith nodded. "Come in spring. I'd like to plant an oak here for Morgan."

I liked the idea of that. Of living on. Becoming a part of the landscape. Growing tall, proud, powerful. "That would be nice," I offered before sighing. "Is there anyone in Morgan's life who might want to harm him? Is there anyone else the PD should contact?"

I opened my briefcase and took out a yellow legal pad, waiting for Keith's response.

"I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt Morgan. He was a good man. Morgan was an only child. His dad died when he was just a little kid. His mom worked really hard at one of the furniture factories nearby. She had an unexpected stroke on Morgan's sixteenth birthday. He dropped out of school, and he and his aunt took care of his mom. He kept studying at night and graduated just a couple months behind the rest of us. Morgan got a job at the casino, and we also consulted him about compiling some tribe history. His mom died six months ago, and he moved to Rochester for a change of pace and to have access to the library there to do some tribal research."

I scribbled some notes on my legal pad as Keith cracked his knuckles. "So no one was, maybe, jealous of Morgan's role in the community as a historian or angry that he left the area? Was there any inheritance to be split? Was he dating anyone?"

Keith shook his head. "Nah. Morgan's family didn't have any money, no insurance money to split up. Morgan didn't have time for a girlfriend either. He devoted his life to his mom and making her life better. Despite that, he was well liked and everyone was really understanding."

I doubted there was any connection between Morgan and the other victims, but I gave it a try. I flipped through my folder, carefully avoiding the grisly crime scene photos. I found the collage the department made up of all our victims from the photos obtained from the families.

"Do any of these people look familiar?" I questioned, handing him the photos.

He dutifully studied the pictures for a moment and shook his head. "Not at all."

I could have predicted that. I just couldn't make all of these people fit the modus operandi of the killer.

"Was Morgan the latest victim of the serial killer?" Keith's expression bore the pain and fear he felt. His brown was furrowed, his teeth worried at his lip, and he wrung his hands nervously.

"I'm strictly speaking off the record, but yes. Please know that we're taking this seriously. Our tech unit is working 24/7, and our detectives are following any and every lead."

Keith nodded glumly. "I know."

I sat poised with my pen over the paper, waiting. "Is there any names of friends or acquaintances that you want to give me? Any places that Morgan visited frequently? Anything can be the key."

We talked for a few more minutes, and he gave me the names of a couple contacts. The problem was that until six months ago, Morgan was nearly a recluse. He stayed home, taking care of his mother. My gut told me that none of Keith's leads would pan out. Our killer seemed to pick people at random, that was the mode of operation. Maybe he stood on the street corner and just picked people out and asked them the time. When they answered, he began plotting their death. But HOW?

Keith walked me back around the front of the building where the students were boarding their bus. "That was some story you told them," I said, watching them wave goodbye to Keith.

"Yeah, our people have some great stories for this time of year," he said, waving back at them. "Certainly gives you something to think about, huh?"

I nodded. "Yes! And you tell them so well. I had the chills sitting there listening, watching you act out the scenes. I definitely felt the need to turn around and look behind me to make sure no one was there."

He chuckled lightly. "Good, you had the reaction I was going for then."

He said goodbye, and I promised to return in the spring, and if I had any news regarding Morgan or the case. I liked it here. It was beautiful, peaceful. You didn't feel like life just ended after we died, but we became a part of something. I didn't know if I believed in heaven or hell, but I liked knowing that we wouldn't be forgotten after we were gone.

Back in my car, I turned on my cell phone and found I had sixteen missed messages.

Great.

Most were from Mike and Tyler asking where I was or issuing veiled threats if I 'meddled in the Parker case.' Pft. I wasn't scared of them. It wasn't until I got a text from the Deputy Commissioner on duty that I began to worry just a little. His text was a little more direct, gruffer.

'_Swan, my office ASAP.'_

Oops. Probably didn't look good that I'd ignored that one. I'd have to spend my afternoon playing a little kiss ass and using some naiveté.

I clicked to the last message and found an unknown sender.

_Fr. Unknown Caller_

_Did you receive my gift?_

I stopped cold.

_Edward?_

I felt my heart try to restart, for surely it had stopped. It stuttered several times, thumping loudly against my ribcage, nearly taking my breath away as I panicked.

I momentarily wondered where he got my number, but I remembered I gave the family several business cards.

I was shocked, nervous, _exhilarated_.

In a rush of emotion, I found myself typing a reply.

_To: Unknown Caller_

_Edward?_

I set my phone down on the seat and started the engine. Before I could get my seatbelt buckled I heard the chime telling me I had a new text.

_Fr: Unknown Caller_

_Of course, Detective. Are you receiving gifts from any other strange men?_

I smiled, adding him to my contact list.

_To: Edward Cullen_

_No, just you. Thank you. And thank you for seeing me home last night._

I tucked my folder back into my briefcase and waited to see if he would—

A reply!

_Fr: Edward Cullen_

_Bella, I'd be happy to see you home __any__ night._

My God, what was I doing? What the fuck was wrong with me?

My fingers itched to reply, but what would I say? I knew what I _wanted_ to say—_How about tonight?_

But I couldn't let myself.

I felt a strange dichotomy of safety and danger in his presence—the good kind of danger: intense, all-consuming, reckless, and if my dreams were any indication, passionate.

But was he a suspect? Should he be?

I opted for polite, restrained.

_To: Edward Cullen_

_Thanks._

I began my drive back to Rochester and went straight to the station. Mike and Tyler were engaged in deep conversation when I stopped off at my cubicle. They dropped their voices, but their narrowed eyes let me know I was the topic of conversation.

My visit to the Deputy Chief's office went nearly as well. He agreed with Mike that I was not only too close to the Morgan Parker case, but that I could be a target too. I presented my notes from my discussion with Keith to back up the randomness of the crimes and to sell myself as the best investigator on the team. The Deputy Chief couldn't argue that. I took action and got results.

He wanted to put me in protective custody or in a safe house, which I absolutely vetoed. I eventually relented to let patrols check on me when they went by. He accepted my offer but threatened me with protective custody if I followed up on Morgan's case again. I had to turn over my notes too. It was beyond disappointing.

Since I was working exclusively on the serial killings, I spent the rest of the day tying up some loose ends, calling some contacts, and did some more research. At six p.m., I called it a day.

When I arrived home, I opened the door to a dark apartment. How did I never realize just how murky and potentially dangerous it could be? I always kept the blinds shut and even had light blocking curtains to keep the light out. My hours were all over the place, so I liked to keep things dark to help me sleep. Maybe a part of me just didn't care if it was dangerous.

I entered the apartment, turned on the lights, and saw Edward's gift where I had left it that morning. I couldn't help but smile.

After settling in and hanging my gun belt on the shelf by the door, I set the timer to come on in the early evening.

The night passed in a blur of channel surfing, a frozen pot pie, and repeatedly checking my cell for texts from…strange men.

At eleven, I turned on the news; Morgan's death was the lead story. Newton gave an interview. The idiot really had no idea how to use the media. I nodded off on the couch for twenty minutes before Edward's light timer clicked off and I was immersed in darkness.

I dragged myself off the couch, exhausted. My feet were heavy, and I stumbled down the hall to my room. I shimmied out of my pants, tore off my shirt, and unhooked my bra. I left everything exactly where it fell. I didn't care; no one ever came over anyway. Pulling back the comforter and sheet, I slid into bed wearing only my boyshorts. The blades of the fan whirring overhead helped lull me back to sleep and the breeze flitted over my skin, cooling me. I began to drift off immediately.

_I was warm despite the fall day. The sun was peeking through the clouds, heating the interior of my grandpa's old aluminum boat. I could hear the gentle lapping sound of the water against the hull._

"_Hungry, Isabella?"_

_I leaned over and looked over at the gunny sack floating in the water, tethered to the boat, full of salmon. I was starving._

"_Yes, daddy. Can we go back now?" I whined, dipping the tip of my finger in the rushing water. "Where's mom?"_

_The reel clicked as dad turned it, fighting another silver salmon._

"_At the beach. She'll be there when we get back and have the fire going, I hope. We'll eat lunch on the shore."_

_The boat drifted under a Sitka spruce, and I shivered as we entered the shade. Dad cranked the reel again, and I saw the rod arc and bend with tension. "Soon, B—"_

_There was a sudden bang, and the boat rocked violently, almost tipping me out over the port side. I grabbed onto the strut that held the seat to the wall of the boat. I looked over my shoulder to find a man standing in the boat behind my dad. There was another loud thud behind me as another person dropped out of the tree above us, rocking the boat again._

_I couldn't, didn't want to, see their faces. Scared, startled, I drew my knees up, wrapped my arms around them tight, and buried my head in my lap._

"_W-who are you?" I heard my father's voice break, and I knew he was worried. He was a cop; he was strong. I'd never heard fear in my dad's voice—not unless he was afraid mom or I was hurt._

_The person behind me, a woman, spoke. Her voice was falsely-sweet. "Well, we were just watching you and Isabella fish here."_

_At the sound of my name, I heard dad's fishing pole drop to the bottom of the boat and scrape across the floor. I heard the splash as it went over, and I briefly wondered if the fish could get loose or if it would die._

_The man spoke up. His voice was raspy, sharp, and bitter. "We've just run out of bait, you see, but then we stumbled upon you. Wanna share?"_

_It was then that I heard the most awful sound I'd ever heard or would ever hear._

_The scuffle was violent; I could tell even though I didn't look. I could hear my dad's feet flailing and clunking as he kicked the floor of the boat with his hiking boots._

_I lifted my head ever so slightly in the midst of the struggle when I heard a strange gurgling sound. In the brief moment that I peeked over my knees, I saw the man bent down over my dad, holding him down. I could see my dad's face and his expression was burned forever in my mind. His eyes were wide, frozen, and his mouth hung open, slack._

"_You don't want to see this, little bird," the woman said, pushing my head back down._

_I couldn't cry. I was too scared._

_I tried to ignore the sounds—choking, gurgling, and struggling. I could hear the squeak of my dad's boot across the metal deck of the boat, and I could hear a different lapping sound; not the sound of water cresting against the hull. My eyes squeezed closed, and I clapped my hands over my ears. I began to sing the song my dad always hummed to me when I'd call him into my room in the middle of the night._

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you…"_

_As I neared the end of the chorus, I heard one final loud gasp. I looked up over my knees and saw my dad's body go slack._

"_Please don't take my sunshine away."_

_I heard a wet ripping sound and felt the boat rock a little, but I buried my head back down in my lap._

_I heard the clunk of shoes and could see unfamiliar boots when I parted my knees and looked down at the floor._

"_Isabella?" I knew I should look up when addressed, but I couldn't._

_I felt a cold hand, colder than I could ever imagine, reach into my personal space and lift my chin. His skin didn't feel normal; it was hard, lifeless, like a porcelain doll. He raised my face and stroked my cheek. I wanted to shrink away from his icy-cold skin. If I was scared before, I was terrified now. My heart raced, and my mouth was dry._

_The sun had come back out and was hovering over the man's right shoulder, rendering me nearly blind. The woman behind me stroked my hair once before holding my face between her hands, immobilizing me. The man began to lean down, and I blinked my eyes to block out the sun, I could see nothing as I gazed up into the bright sunlight. I thought it odd that it was so sunny because I swore I heard thunder in the distance._

_The sound began to grow, and it seemed like the ground was shaking. I strained to keep my watering eyes open._

_Suddenly there was something large and tawny-grey sailing through the air, knocking the man into the water._

_A gigantic dog, no, a wolf, was standing in the water at the port side of the boat. It was between me and the man, and it was nearly twice as tall as a person. It was the biggest thing I had ever seen. He let out a growl causing me to wince and cover my ears._

_I felt the boat rock again, and I looked over my shoulder to find the woman gone, scrabbling up into a tree. The only detail I noticed was her red hair twisted into a thick braid._

_The wolf took a step forward, lunging toward the man, causing a swell of water to crash into the boat. I felt us begin to drift downstream once again._

_It was then that I looked over at my dad. His body was limp, legs splayed out at wrong angles, and one arm hung over the starboard side. His eyes were fixed open, the twinkle in them gone. Blood seeped from a gaping hole in his neck near his shoulder. His throat was ripped apart, his shirt soaked with blood. The body looked deflated, emaciated._

_I vomited, my body retching uncomfortably. The tears flowed freely now._

_We were still far too close to the wolf and the man who was now growling just as loudly. I didn't want to see anymore. I climbed under the seat at the bow. Before I closed my eyes, I reached out and grabbed the cuff of my dad's pant leg. I felt the boat drift along._

_I didn't open my eyes again until I heard my name being called._

_I was surprised it was dark now. I'd known we'd run ashore some time ago, but I couldn't open my eyes, couldn't cry out, couldn't move._

_I heard splashing as people came toward the boat. I heard familiar-sounding voices._

"_Bella?"_

"_Oh Jesus! Charlie!"_

"_Bella! Bella! Are you okay?"_

_I felt a set of hands grab my arms, dragging me out from beneath the seat._

"_Is she—?"_

_The arms drew me in to a warm body. I could smell the tobacco on his flannel, and I knew who it had to be._

"_Bella? It's Billy. Can you hear me?" His voice was breaking with emotion. I could feel the tears dropping from his chin to my face._

_I couldn't answer; I was shivering with cold and damp. I was afraid to open my eyes because I knew what I would see, and I didn't want to see it again._

_Billy drew me in close and wrapped his flannel shirt around me. I clung tighter to him._

"_I think she's in shock."_

_I rode in another boat back to the boat launch. Billy never let me go. I had closed my eyes again, but I could hear some of my dad's other friends from the reservation—Old Mr. Quil and Harry Clearwater among them—as we brought my dad's body back._

_Billy's voice was low and somber but I heard him whisper in my ear. "What did you see, Bella?"_

_I gasped as the memory resurfaced. I couldn't really see the mystery man or his face, but I remembered the way he crouched over my dad, the gaping hole in his neck. I remembered the gigantic wolf-dog and how the man and woman seemed afraid of it, and yet it didn't seem to want to hurt me._

_I tried to open my mouth and tell Billy what I'd seen, but I couldn't. Nonsensical noise came out and nothing more._

"_It's okay, honey. Were there other people on the boat with you?"_

_I nodded against his shoulder._

"_Okay, good girl. How many? One…two…"_

_I nodded again, more vehemently this time._

"_Two? Did you see anything else?" he hedged, his voice wary._

_I swallowed and stammered. The sound of my voice seemed too loud to my brain even over the sound of the motor attached to the boat. "A-a d-dog," I whispered back. I didn't want to admit it was a wolf. It had saved me, and I didn't want to see it hunted._

_Billy said no more._

_The boat moved up river toward the jetty. I think I fell asleep. The next thing I remembered was Billy patting my back._

"_Bella, open your eyes now. We need to get out of the boat."_

_I cracked open my right eye and peeked through my lashes, fearful of what I might see. We were stopped at the end of the long pier at the boat launch. The parking lot was alive with emergency personnel and emergency vehicles. I opened both eyes and began to look around. It wasn't just Forks Police here, but tribal police, and Clallam County too._

_In and amongst the chaos was my mother. Her face was illuminated by the bright work lights the police had set up. She was bent at the waist, one arm wrapped around her stomach, one hand pressed to her mouth to hold in the screams. She shook with sobs._

_I felt instantly guilty. When she waved goodbye at the pier earlier that morning she'd hollered out "Take care of each other!"_

_My dad upheld his part of the bargain. _

_I had not._

_I hung my head and watched the red, white, and blue lights from the police cars and ambulances flicker over the dark water. I wanted my mom, but she was in no shape to console me; she had lost her high school sweetheart. As some of our friends from the reservation tried to help my mom, I was whisked away to the police officers on scene._

_I was still in shocked as I sat on the hood of a squad car and tried to tell them what had happened._

_But what did happen? I had seen a man and a woman jump out of a tree onto our boat. The man had bent low over my dad as though he was whispering to him. I'd seen the big wolf-dog, but I hadn't really seen what happened to my dad. I just knew the outcome._

_I didn't want to think of it anymore. I could see his shirt dyed red and smell the blood._

_I stuttered and stammered to the Clallam County cop until Billy came over to help. The policeman asked if I'd seen an animal, and I nodded. I knew it was wrong to lie to a police officer. He and Billy talked a lot about bears, mountain lions, and wolves. Billy said he'd seen attacks from all three animals before._

_I didn't say anything else._

_Not only did I not want to relive the moments, but I didn't want to talk about the man and the woman. What if they came back? I began to consciously make an effort to push the memories away, to forget. I didn't want to remember that the woman had red hair, or that the man had on a knit hat, so I didn't._

_My last memory of the day was my dad's deputy handing me a plastic police badge and thanking me for being brave. I didn't care; my mother was climbing into the back of an ambulance with my dad. I was alone, scared, and I desperately wanted a hug._

_I stayed with the Blacks on the reservation that night._

I didn't awake with a start.

The dream didn't scare me anymore, I'd made an effort to forget what I could, but sometimes it left me feeling unsettled. I could feel the ache in my chest at the loss all over again. No doubt the dream had been rekindled by the scary stories I'd heard at the cultural center earlier that day.

Months and years of therapy couldn't get me to recall anything with more precise detail. Gentle probing in my mind by a psychologist made me all the more insistent that the memories were perfectly safe right where they were—in the dark, deep recesses of my mind. My father's case was closed; his death chalked up to a random animal attack. I vowed then and there that if I could solve my father's murder, I would. I wanted to solve other murders too; I never wanted anyone to feel as awful as I felt standing alone on that pier.

Only two people really knew the truth about the man and the woman in the boat that day: me and Billy. Though I stayed with the Blacks for the rest of the week; no one said anything. I didn't see the mystery man and woman's faces, or I had blocked it out, but I remembered the sound of his voice; the alluring tone, and the way his skin felt on mine: hard, cold, solid.

I rubbed my hands over my face and sighed. The dream hadn't been this vivid in years. I remember the feeling of the man's hands stroking my face.

I sat up abruptly.

I realized I had felt that touch one other time. _Much_ more recently.

_Edward_.

I was panting. I felt cold, faint.

It was the same feel, yet different. The cold, the firmness, was the same, but the intent was different. Edward's touch hummed with an electric current that jolted me to the core.

My mind was racing, scrambled. I couldn't make sense of the jumble of thoughts and emotions rattling inside me.

Who was Edward Cullen?

Why did Edward remind me of the man who killed my father?

My dad's murderer was never caught, and I knew it wasn't a wolf. I couldn't and didn't want to see what the strange man had done to my dad, but it caused his death.

Why, of all people, did Edward remind me of a murderer?

Furthermore, what _was_ he?

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: No disrespect is meant toward the Seneca Nation. I took some liberties with the description of the Cultural Center. The real center can be found here: www (dot) senecamuseum (dot) org (slash) and I melded it with the museum on my own tribe's reservation.

The Seneca legend was true. It was collected by Mr. Jeremiah Curtain in 1922. You can read more Seneca legends here: www (dot) sacred-texts (dot)com (slash)nam (slash) iro (slash) sim (slash) sim61 (dot) htm

I will also link both on my profile page.

Thank you, as always, for reading.


	11. Just Bella

It had been more than a week since I'd been to the Seneca Museum on the reservation.

It had been more than a week since I'd gotten a decent night's sleep. The nightmares which once had been an infrequent, nagging nuisance were now horrifying, debilitating terrorists hijacking my dreams.

What didn't change, however, was that I never saw how my dad died. My imagination continued to run wild with ideas. A knife to the throat was the most common invention, but I never saw that the man had a weapon. What else could it be?

In my nightmares, sometimes the wolf didn't arrive in time, and I died. Sometimes Mom was there too. Sometimes I took the place of the woman and held my dad down. Sometimes Edward Cullen rescued me.

I went to work every day and returned home to a well-lighted place. I didn't go to the café or the bar again. I didn't check my phone for texts from strange men.

I wanted space. I _needed_ space. I had to decide what to do about Edward. There was _something_ off about him, but was it fair to accuse him with no evidence? Hell, I met weirdoes every day but that didn't mean they were guilty of something. Did he have the touch of a killer? Was there an explanation for why his touch reminded me of the man who had killed my dad? I had allowed him to get closer, closer than I'd let anyone get for years, and it felt _good_. It felt like the bad kind of good. I remembered the feeling of his hands on my body, and I didn't feel the way I did in the boat that day twenty years ago. I felt like I wanted more.

And finally, I needed to let go of my dad's death. I would never solve the murder, and it was unfair of me to place the burden of that at the feet of my seven-year-old self. I needed to forgive that little girl. It wasn't my fault. I couldn't let go here, or in Michigan, or in California.

I knew what I needed to do, and before I could talk myself out of it, first thing Monday morning I called the chief to ask for a week off.

The chief thought it was a great idea and reminded me that I'd never taken any of my vacation time before. He thanked me for working so hard on the case, but he confessed that he was worried about me and said I could use a break.

A side of me felt really guilty. Guilty that I was leaving my co-workers to do my job, guilty that I'd worried the chief, and embarrassed that I needed time away. Newton and Crowley didn't need space.

Before I could over-think it, I bought a red-eye flight to Seattle for that night. This was good. I couldn't spend the day agonizing over leaving or thinking of Edward. I just started packing. I hadn't set foot in Forks since I was seven; not all my memories should be bad, right?

I hauled out the old suitcase I'd bought when I'd left California for Michigan. I could count on one thing for my trip—the weather in Forks. I'd yet to haul out the bulk of my cool-weather clothes here in New York, so I pulled out hoodies and sweaters from the back of my closet and tossed some old jeans with holes in the knees into the suitcase. I didn't want to be Detective Isabella Swan there; I wanted to be Bella.

Just Bella.

As I dragged a week's worth of unmentionables from my dresser and placed them in my suitcase, there was a knock at the door. I stopped in the midst of my task and scowled, wondering who on earth would stop by. I walked down the hall toward the door and stopped to look through the peephole before opening it.

Edward Cullen stood on the other side.

I gasped aloud and silently cursed myself for making so much noise. I clapped a hand over my mouth, cringing at the audible slap.

"Bella?"

I stood on the other side of the door from him with my hand still pressed to my mouth and panicked momentarily, flailing and shimmying around. I wasn't ready to talk to him; this was my No-Thinking-About-Edward-Cullen time. I hadn't prepared, hell, I didn't even know if I'd come to a decision about him yet or not.

I looked through the peephole again.

His arm was outstretched, casually propped up against the door jamb, and his other hand was shielding his eyes. He looked frustrated but beautiful, always so damn beautiful.

"Bella, I know you're there. I saw your car outside, and I can see the shadow of your feet under the door."

Shit!

My mouth was dry, my heart was hammering against my ribcage, and I found myself unhooking the chain from the door to let him in.

By the time I opened the door, he had almost risen to his full height, but his shoulders were slumped, and he looked worried.

I still had a pair of yellow underwear with watermelons on them in my hand. I hurriedly shoved them in the back pocket of my jeans.

"I'm sorry to just show up, but I was worried. I hadn't heard from you since—"

I felt like I was going to choke. My throat was tight, and it felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. I held up a hand, placing it in the center of his chest, stopping him from entering. Before I could speak, I felt what I could only describe as an electrical current emanating from his chest. I swore I felt it when we'd touched other times too—the night at the bar. When I'd touched his hand, and when he helped me in and out of my car I _swore_ I felt it. I also knew I drank a lot that night and had chalked it up to the obscene amount of liquor I consumed.

But now I could feel it again, and I hadn't been drinking. It felt like a soft current was being passed over his body and consuming my body and energy in the process.

"Edward, no."

It killed me to turn him away when I wanted to want to say yes.

I pushed against his chest, keeping him from crossing the threshold of my apartment. He was uninvited. His chest was cold, as though he'd been out in the dead of winter without a jacket, and his musculature was firm. No, hard. I imagined rock hard, washboard abs and tight pecs under the button-up Oxford he was wearing.

He genuinely looked hurt, but his expression quickly changed to one of resignation.

"I—"

What was I going to say? _I'm going away to evaluate whether or not you're a serial killer_.

"I need some space. My mind is really fucked up right now."

I don't know what I expected. Maybe I wanted him to put a bit of a fight, but he didn't. He simply sighed and ruffled up his hair. He stood stock still, looking directly in my eyes.

I had to look away.

"Just a little space, for a little while."

He nodded and backed away, eyes never deviating from mine, until I shut the door.

I tried to remind myself that we didn't know each other very well despite sharing some very personal details in our exchanges. I tried to tell myself that it shouldn't hurt to watch him walk away, but it did.

I packed the rest of my things and arranged for a cab to pick me up at 1:00 a.m. When it arrived, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs and loaded it in the trunk, giving my little apartment a parting glance.

"Airport, please," I told the driver.

It didn't take long to get there, and the terminal was all but dead. I checked in, registering my gun in as well, and made it through security with little delay. I boarded the flight with mainly business types, and I watched as they texted and typed until the very last minute. I decided to check my messages too.

I had one.

Fr: Edward Cullen

Please continue to be careful. For me.

I texted back a quick reply.

To: Edward Cullen

Always am.

I turned the phone off and stowed it away in my carry-on. This was a working vacation, and there would be time to think about Edward later.

I dozed on the flight, not sleeping soundly, but not able to either give myself over to restfulness or wakefulness either. I had a short layover in Minneapolis, and I fought the urge to check my messages again. So much for not thinking of… that strange man. Instead, I pulled out a book of crosswords I'd brought with me.

I landed in Seattle just before dawn on Tuesday morning. By the time I got my luggage and my rental car, it was nearly 8:00 a.m., and I had a three and a half hour drive to Forks. I was so tired. I chugged coffee, chewed gum, listened to the loudest, most angry music on the radio, and even had to stop once and get out of the car to stand in the rain in an effort to wake myself up. I'd forgotten how much it actually rained here. I didn't miss it. Rochester was often overcast, but it didn't rain _all_ the time.

I managed to get through Tacoma after much of the rush hour traffic, and I watched as the scenery changed from grey sky to towering green trees. Butterflies began to flutter, just one at a time, in my stomach as I drove north passing Bremerton and Silverdale closer to home. By the time I got to Port Angeles, I was nauseous and my stomach was swarming with anxiety. I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. I stopped in Port Angeles for brunch before continuing on. The greasy diner food filled my stomach and actually helped settle it a little.

I drove slower than the speed limit between Port Angeles and Forks and turned off the radio. The only music I needed was the sound of the wiper blades squeaking and rain as it polka-dotted the windshield. I ignored the turn-off for La Push. I wasn't ready to confront that demon yet, and I wasn't totally sure I would make the trip to the boat launch or not. I hadn't been back to the area at all since I was a kid. So many things were similar, and some had drastically changed. I gawked as I drove, wondering if old haunts were still there. I was happy to see the same grocery store I visited as a girl with my mom, the same sporting goods store where my dad bought fishing supplies, and the same old Police Station—my dad's home away from home. I dabbed more than one tear as I cruised through town reliving old memories. It was definitely bittersweet being back.

I found the boarding house where I'd reserved a room. When I was growing up here, it was the biggest house in town and owned by an old widower who had let the house go. Now it was a beautiful inn with a cottage-like feel inside.

I got settled in my room just before noon. It was small and on the third floor of the house, but it had all I needed right now—a bed. I abandoned my luggage, shed my coat, and collapsed onto the mattress.

It was several hours before I awoke, the sound of the rain beating on the window under the gable eventually waking me up. As I lay huddled up and warm, I began to take in the details of my quarters. I knew the space was a dormer room, formerly the loft, which the inn had converted into a small room. It was cozy and neat. There was a wingback chair under the angled ceiling and a small desk and chair. I had my own bathroom, and I even had a flat screen TV. Too bad I didn't watch much TV.

In addition to the driving rain bringing me out from my slumber, the amazing smell of baked chicken wafted through the house, and it was mouth-watering.

I climbed out of bed, knotted my hair up in a loose bun and pulled a fresh shirt from my suitcase. I made myself look a little more presentable before making my way downstairs.

The old stairs creaked as I descended to the lowest landing, and I began to see some of the other guests of the bed-and-breakfast. Some sat in the large living room, watching TV or doing puzzles and playing games; a few others were helping to clear the table from dinner.

"Oh! There she is!" cried the friendly voice of Betsy, the owner of the house whom I'd met at check in.

I blushed, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd sleep so long." Truth be told, I was devastated dinner was finished and was being put away.

"No worries. I saved you a bowl of chicken pot pie. It's wrapped up in the microwave, honey."

Jackpot. I couldn't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.

As I sat at the large oval-shaped table, devouring my chicken pot pie like it was about to be outlawed, I watched the hustle and bustle around me. Some of the other tenants introduced themselves. One couple was on their honeymoon but most of the others were retired couples. There were nine people, including me, staying at the house. The men were there fishing, and their wives had tagged along to go whale watching. I learned that Betsy's husband had died several years ago, and her daughter, Peggy, ran the business end of the bed-and-breakfast.

As I ate, we had so far avoided the question I was most afraid of while I was here. I scraped the last bit of gravy from the stoneware crock when Betsy hollered from the kitchen, "What brings you to Forks, Bella?"

"Ah—I—" I wasn't really sure what I wanted to share. I didn't want pity; I just wanted freedom and escape. "I, um, lived here almost twenty years ago."

The other customers in the room looked on with mild interest, but Betsy stopped washing the table and stared at me. "Isabella Swan, Isabella Swan, Isa—Bella! You're little Bella Swan, Charlie's—"

I nodded, putting my spoon in the bowl as I rose from the table. "Yeah," I said by way of answer. I put my dishes in the dishwasher and looked around at the faces looking back at me.

"Thank you for the help, ladies. You spoil me. Please, go enjoy your evening," Betsy said sweetly, shooing the women from the kitchen and dining room.

They left the kitchen sparing curious glances behind them. Betsy waited until they had dispersed before approaching me.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

I shook my head and stopped her with a gesture of my hand. "It's okay, you didn't know. I just came to find some peace."

Betsy smiled and reached for my hand, taking it in her warm, soft, wrinkled one. "That's awfully brave of you."

I ducked my head and gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks. I'm going to head back up to my room. I'm still tired."

"Okay, dear. It's cinnamon rolls for breakfast. If you sleep in, I'll save you one."

I climbed back up the three floors and avoided looking at the other residents as I passed the den. I entered my room and locked the door behind me. I changed into some pajamas, stowed my gun in the closet, and grabbed my laptop, flopping down on the comfy bed. I booted up and logged onto a website for Rochester news. I braced myself as I prepared for the worst, but I was pleased to see reports from the recent football game in Buffalo and an announcement for the local trick or treating hours in various neighborhoods of Rochester. Nothing about the serial killer. I could feel my body relax.

I turned off the laptop and turned on the television while I settled under the heavy quilted comforter. I looked at the clock with a yawn and realized it was going on 11:00 in Rochester. Nap notwithstanding, it was no wonder I was getting tired. I flipped through the channels not really paying attention to anything I was watching: a sports commentary show, some home shopping stuff, entertainment news with two really annoying hosts with too-wide smiles and cutting laughs, a sitcom… I found myself wondering how Edward spent his evenings. When I became consciously aware that I was thinking of him, I distracted myself by watching a biography of Beethoven and I eventually fell asleep watching it.

Wednesday morning I blinked awake, vaguely aware I was not in my room at home. I let my eyes wander around the unfamiliar room until they found the glowing alarm clock with red numbers. 5:17 a.m. That meant it was quarter after 8:00 in New York. I stretched out under the covers and decided I should go for a run.

I bundled up in my sweats, tied my hair up, and grabbed my key. When I opened the door, two cats stood outside on the short landing: one white, one orange and white striped. "Hello," I whispered, stooping down to scratch their ears. I tiptoed down the stairs, and they raced ahead of me and out to the kitchen.

I quietly slipped out the back door and began to run. I loved running. Though I wasn't fast, my pace was consistent. Running gave me a freedom I didn't often feel in my life. I liked the idea of relying upon myself to go anywhere I wanted, and the ability to let my mind wander as it liked. Usually I wore my mp3 player, but today my thoughts were my only accompaniment.

As my shoes pounded the pavement, I began to plan my little getaway. The trip had been so hasty that I didn't know how I would spend my week. I knew above all that I would visit the cemetery where my parents were buried on the Swan family plot next to my grandparents. I was determined to visit the river where my dad was murdered too. I'd have to charter a boat out. I couldn't remember how to drive one, and I didn't have a license. I had yet to decide if I would visit the Blacks in La Push. I had not kept in contact, and for all I knew the family no longer lived there.

And I just wanted some peace and rest too.

At noon I stood under a borrowed umbrella on the spongy grass at Forks Cemetery. In front of me were the graves of my parents. I'd never seen either of the headstones before. My mother and I left Forks a week after his death and never looked back, so I had never seen my dad's marker. When my mom died, I was in California with my grandmother, and she wasn't healthy enough to make the trip up to Washington.

I wasn't sure what I believed in regard to the afterlife, but as I stood there with my humble offering of flowers and gazed around at the serene beauty of nature, I had every confidence my parents could hear me.

"I miss you both," I offered as I knelt down to place the bouquet on the flat marble stone. "Daddy, you'll never believe it, but I'm a cop too. Mom, we never really got the chance to talk about guys and stuff, but I could really use your advice now. There's… someone, and I don't know if he thinks of me, but I can't stop thinking about him. I wish you were here to tell me what to do, how to act, what to say. I never really understood guys. Daddy, I wish you were here to give him a hard time and tell me what you thought of his character. I don't know what to do, but I hope I do the right thing. I hope you'd be proud of me no matter what." I wondered for the millionth time what I would be like if they were still here.

I kissed my fingers and pressed them to the cold stone. I was oddly reminded of Edward Cullen and his firm abs the night I pushed him out of my apartment. How strange.

I spent the rest of the afternoon hitting up the local shops and doing touristy things. It felt good to blend in, to be myself. At the restaurant my family had frequented, I remembered there was always a brochure rack with local leaflets and advertisements for local events and places to visit. As I waited for my lunch, I found exactly what I was looking for—charter boat tours.

That evening I helped Betsy with dinner. Since my skills were minimal, I was given the task of making a chef salad. While I irregularly cubed the ham, I dropped little pieces for the cats. After dinner I played gin with the other ladies. Thankfully, none of them asked any questions about me growing up here.

Before I went to bed, I checked the Rochester news again and emailed Angela to ask if any of the forensics were back from the latest vic.

Thursday, I woke up late. I showered, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and braided my hair before going downstairs. There were three slices of bacon, a fruit cup, and a small bowl of yogurt waiting for me. I shared my breakfast with the cats.

Betsy asked where I was off to today. She said nothing when I said I was visiting an old family friend in La Push. I used the phone in the kitchen to make an appointment with the charter boat company I'd taken the brochure for, and I tucked it into my back pocket.

I was nervous when I set off toward the reservation. I probably should have kept in better contact with the Blacks over the years; that's how my dad would have wanted it.

The drive itself wasn't long, but it was long enough to make me wonder if I should have called first. I didn't even know where my phone was. I should have checked my messages. It was amazingly easy to forget how far away from home I was and the responsibilities always waiting for me back there. But one thing that never was far from my mind was Edward. I found myself wondering the most abstract things—had he ever been to the Pacific Northwest or if he ever thought about me…

I clutched the address on a scrap of paper in my left hand. Though I hadn't been on the road in twenty years, I remembered everything along the way: the houses with their totem out front, the signs marking tribal territory, the party store we used to stop at where Dad always let me buy a candy bar.

I turned down a dirt road and a house broke through the trees. It had changed considerably since I'd last seen it. The paint was peeling, the lawn looked like a jungle, and there was an old red Chevy up on blocks next to the driveway. The house I remembered was always neat and maintained. Sure, there was always a collection of bikes and toys in the yard, but everyone's yards looked like that here. Maybe the Blacks didn't live here anymore.

I pulled in the drive and parked. I looked on the house for an address and didn't find one. There were hand-painted numbers and a wolf on the mailbox out front. I looked down at my note again; it was the right address.

I climbed out and hesitantly walked up the drive that was pockmarked with shallow puddles from last night's rain. The sound of my shoes crunching on the gravel and a crow cawing in the distance were the only sounds.

I thought maybe someone would hear the car and come to the door or look out a window, but the house was still. When I got to the stoop, I could finally hear the TV; someone was home. I pounded on the door and could hear a little commotion inside. I heard someone grumble "Damn it all," while I waited.

The door opened abruptly, and I saw an old man standing there leaning heavily against the frame, and a crutch tucked under his arm.

"Billy?"

It couldn't be. This hardly resembled the strong man who rescued me from the boat the day my dad died. His hair was still long but thinning and had more grey than black now. His face was creased with thin lines.

"Yeah?" he answered guardedly.

He didn't recognize me. I went into cop-mode for a moment, approaching a near-stranger at the door. "I'm Detect—Isa—it's Bella. Bella Swan."

"Bella? Oh, geez, is this a surprise." He made to reach out and presumably hug me, but needed to grab on to the door frame again. "Look at you, you're all grown up. Gosh, where are my manners, come in, come in."

Billy walked slowly through the house, his legs lagging. He used the crutch on one side and kept contact with the wall on the other side. There was little around the house, but I noticed a coat rack and a clean laundry basket of towels tipped over.

I stooped quietly to right the coat rack, but Billy noticed. "Just leave it, Bella. I ought to get rid of it. I trip over it every day. Damn legs."

I didn't ask what was wrong, but I took a seat on the sofa when he gestured.

"It's got to be nigh on twenty years, girl. What brings you back? Where've you been since… you lost your dad and your mom? I was sorry about that, by the way." He settled into the large, aging La-Z-Boy chair, leaned the crutch against the wall with its brother, and propped the ottoman up.

I couldn't tell him the truth, not right away. I gave a simple explanation. "I thought I ought to get in touch with my roots. That's you and Sarah too. Where is she?"

Billy's wife was an amazing cook, a great mom, and taught classes at the Quileute Cultural Center.

Billy's excitement at my arrival faded. He sighed and looked down. "Gone, Bella. She's been gone eight years now. Caught up in a riptide." I could still hear the sorrow in his voice. I could hear the echoes of the warnings of all the parents down at First Beach. The undertow could be dangerously strong, especially after storms.

"God, I'm so sorry. Rebecca, Rachel, Jacob? How are they?"

His face did lighten a bit at this. "Good, good. Rebecca is in Hawaii with her husband. He's a surfer. She's pregnant with my first grandchild. Rachel lives in Seattle with Jake's best friend and is getting her Master's Degree. Jacob is across the border in Vancouver. He lives with a girl from the Ditidaht tribe from Vancouver Island. They run a bike shop and garage there."

I smiled. "That's nice. Do the kids visit much?" I couldn't help but let my eyes wander a bit. It was a bit evident that they didn't and that their father could use a little help.

"Sure, sure, when they can. It's a hike for Rebecca, and Rachel and Jake—well, young love and all. So, enough about me. What's your story?"

I told him about losing my mom and gran, living in foster care, and becoming a cop. He teared up a bit at that. After my story, I asked if I could buy him a beer and a burger from the one restaurant in town. He took me up on the offer.

I could smell the saltwater as we drove down near the beach, and I was pleased to see that the restaurant wasn't too busy at this time of day. I walked in next to Billy, careful not to hover, but to stand close if he needed the extra support.

The inside of the restaurant was decked out in traditional Quileute imagery, whales among other sea creatures, and we grabbed a booth near the windows. Outside, otters floated with abalone on their tummies in the choppy waves.

While we sipped our beers and waited for a late lunch, we talked about me moving to Rochester, and I shared that I was working on a serial killer case. I confessed that it was giving me fits because I had no suspects, and I wondered if my dad would have been able to solve it yet. Before I could dwell on the haunting feeling of my dad's police presence over my shoulder, I realized what I said. _I had no suspects_. I had no pretenses to keep up here, I could tell the truth, and yet, something inside me didn't really believe it anymore.

We ate fish dinners, and Billy told me more about the kids I'd grown up with. I felt a pang of guilt and thought perhaps I should use some dumb social networking site to find them and keep in touch. They were important people in my life for years.

"You know, Bella," Billy began hesitantly, setting his fork down on the table and catching my gaze, "Sarah and I would have taken you in had we known where you were when your mom died. I knew your grandmother lived in California, but I couldn't remember your mom's maiden name. You were family."

I smiled genuinely, feeling the warmth of his statement. "Thanks."

As we finished up the meal and waited for the check, I pulled the flier about boat charters from my back pocket and tossed it down on the table. "Know Seth Clearwater? He runs boat tours I guess."

Billy picked up the brochure and nodded. "Sure. Good kid. What are you chartering a boat for?"

I didn't immediately answer. I pushed my dinner away and sat staring at Billy for several long moments. _What to say?_ "I—there was always something strange about my dad's death, Billy. You and I both know that. I know what I saw that day," I said leaning in close over the table. "I saw some giant dog, a wolf or something, but that didn't maul my dad. A man did. I don't know what he was or how he did it, but I know the outcome. I want to go back out there. I _need_ to. I know it's been twenty years and there won't be a drop of evidence left, but I've got to do it. I owe my dad that much. Maybe it'll jog my memory—"

"Bella, stop." He didn't yell, but his voice was stern. His eyes were intense and focused. "Don't go looking for trouble. You'll find nothing out there but heartache."

I narrowed my eyes at him and sat back, folding my arms across my chest. "Do you know more than you've let on all these years?" My voice was accusing, but I always thought Billy knew something more than he let on. I remember talking to the detective at the pier the night my dad died about the big animal, but no one ever mentioned the two people who jumped onto our boat from… the trees?

Billy sat back too, and the tone of his voice changed. He was sympathetic, calm. "Bella, I wish we could have solved your dad's murder, but there was no evidence. None. I wasn't there. I don't know what happened."

I felt a subtext hanging between us, _but you were there._

"Do your best to move on. Honor your dad. That's the best thing you can do for him."

I was angry. Who was he to tell me how to honor my dad? I did that every day on the job.

"What harm will a ride out there do? Maybe it will jog a memory about the man or woman on the boat that day. It's not hurting anyone." I grabbed the brochure off the table and re-pocketed it.

"It's hurting _you_, Bella. Your dad is gone. Nothing will bring him back."

I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, and my lips trembled with anger and frustration. I smacked my palm down on the table. "Don't you think I know that? I live the pain of that every day. I'm doing my best to move on, and this is the best way I know how!"

The bartender stopped mixing a drink and looked over at us. I realized how loud we'd been.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, folding my arms over my chest again.

Billy sighed. "Bella, I'm trying to help. I can't stop you, but I don't see what good it will do. Even if you do remember something, where would you start? How could you re-open an investigation that was closed? As far as Clallam County is concerned, your dad died in an animal attack."

I said nothing, noting instead that Billy hadn't actually answered my question whether or not he knew anything more about my father's passing. It wasn't worth fighting over. If I wanted to pursue it, it was none of his business. He was my dad's friend, almost family, and I didn't want to argue. I didn't come here for that.

It was very tense after that, and Billy eventually suggested he should get home and finish his laundry. I was thankful he thought up an excuse.

We returned to the small house, and I parked in the driveway and turned off the car. I looked over at him expectedly, waiting for him to say something. He seemed nervous and looked down at his hands.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I was so glad to see you today, to know for myself that you're okay. Sarah and I worried about you all these years. Keep in touch, Bells. Let's not let twenty years go by again."

I felt the unshed tears stinging my eyes again, but I laughed too. "No one has called me that in twenty years."

I dabbed my eye and leaned over and rested my head on Billy's shoulder. "Thanks for everything, ya know, back then. You were my hero."

He reached over and patted my head, hugging me a little closer. "Be good. Don't dwell on the past. And thanks for coming to visit this old man."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and climbed out of my rental car. He walked slowly back to the door, and I thought I saw him wipe a tear along the way. I backed out of the driveway and waved goodbye. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see him again, but I wished I could repay him for what he had done for me.

Friday morning I got up and dressed in a hoodie, jeans, my boots, and a new raincoat and other supplies courtesy of Forks Outfitters. I bought it after I left Billy's the night before. I drove back into La Push to meet Seth Clearwater at the same boat launch my dad and I had departed from the day he died. I chugged coffee the whole way there and felt the anxiety churning and bubbling in my stomach.

I thought I might have to pull over for worry of passing out. Fear itched and clawed at me from the inside out. I felt nauseous, my limbs shook, and my skin felt clammy.

I arrived at the boat launch and saw several groups putting their boats in the water. I assumed one was Seth, but I couldn't make myself get out to check. I sat in the car with my head resting on the steering wheel, giving myself a pep talk.

"You can do this, Bella," I whispered, closing my eyes tight. "Do this for dad."

A knock on my window startled me, causing me to jump. A friendly-looking face peered back at me.

"You Bella?"

I nodded dumbly, yanking the keys from the ignition and shoving them in my pocket.

"Cool! I'm Seth, let's go!" He smiled a gorgeous smile and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

I sighed. This was it; it was now or never.

I climbed out of the car and grabbed a large plastic bag from Forks Outfitters. I didn't know if I'd need the supplies I bought, but I figured I could always return them. I walked over to where Seth and another guy were getting ready to put the boat in.

"C'mon, Swans belong in the water. Don't'cha know that?" He grinned and offered me a hand up into the boat.

I sat down and hugged the bag to my chest as the guys finished putting the boat in. I looked around the lot. When I was a kid, there was a small picnic area with a couple of tables and charcoal grills. That's where my dad and I were supposed to meet my mom. Only one of us made it back.

Once the boat was in the water, Seth told the other boy, Collin, he could head back. The boy who couldn't be more than sixteen climbed into the large SUV with a turquoise logo on the side that read Clearwater Tours.

Seth looked at me expectantly. "Well, where to, pretty lady?"

I fought back a smile and tucked the bag under my seat. "Head west please."

"Right-o."

We went downriver, careful to avoid where others were fishing. Seth asked only once if I was fishing or meeting someone to fish. I answered with a simple "no," and he didn't ask any more questions.

I did, however.

"How old was the boy with you today? Does he work for you?"

Seth steered around a rocky outcropping. "That's Collin. He's sixteen. I try to help him out during summers and days off school. He likes the money, and he's a good kid."

I nodded. "Think he'd be amenable to some more work? I'm an old friend of Billy Black's, and I'm looking to pay someone a generous wage to keep up with the outdoor work there at the Black's. You know, painting, mowing, and keeping the place tidy."

"I'm sure he'd be into it. I'll put you in contact."

I nodded. I felt good, like I was repaying Billy for all he'd done for me.

We continued downstream until the Bogachiel River was about to meet the Sol Duc. The water ran fast today, and the spray coated my face. It was grey and overcast, nothing like the day I fished with my dad. Eventually, the river narrowed a little, and the trees loomed over the water. This was familiar.

"Slow down."

Seth looked over at me, eased up on the throttle, but continued to move downriver.

I knew what was coming next. The river would widen back out around the bend and open back up. There would be…

A tree.

"Stop."

Seth looked at me again, and let the engine idle.

"No, I need to stop." There was an edge of panic to my voice as I looked around the gentle bend of the river, my mind jumping between the past and the present. I could recount amazing details from that day that were burned into my mind—what I was wearing, how I was sitting, watching Dad arc the reel and draw in the fish—but the way my current companion was looking at me had me concerned. He threw the anchor in front of the tree, letting the boat drift.

The once-proud cottonwood was dying now. Most of the limbs were dry and barren. Only one branch reaching straight up to the sky still bore foliage. There was no question that this was the place. It was a lone tree at the water's edge, a rocky meadow overgrown with moss rising behind it.

I reached under the seat and grabbed the bag from Forks Outfitters and pulled out a pair of too-large, camouflage hip waders.

"Hey, what'cha doin there, girl?" Seth asked, a furrow forming over his brow.

"I'm getting out." I began to pull the waders on, stretching my toes into the bottom of the legs as Seth looked at me aghast. I eventually stood up and shimmied my way into the rubberized pants, fastened the belt around my waist, and pulled the suspender straps upon my shoulders.

Seth shook his head, trying to be fair and judicious, but stern. "Bella, I don't feel comfortable with this. The water is fast, the current is too strong."

I nodded. I wasn't going to let this derail me. I knew his heart was in the right place—it was a dangerous , stupid idea, but something I _had_ to do. For a fleeting moment, the idea of Sarah Black being caught up in an undertow flashed through my mind, but I had to push it away. It was a horrible fate, but if this place could be the key to me unlocking my own memories, I had to do it. Danger be damned.

I looked over at Seth. "Got a rope?"

"Ye—" he stopped himself, his eyes darting to the bright yellow rope neatly curled up on the floor of the boat.

"Okay, tie it around my waist. I'm just going out to that tree over there. Please. I can't really explain this, and I don't want to. I'm not trying to be stupid or careless, just please understand me when I say that I _need_ this. I came 2,300 miles to do this. Please?" I was pleading, my voice steady as I met his eyes and tried to convey the meaning of my words in a glance.

He sighed audibly, shoulders rising and falling. "Alright. Against my better judgment. Lemme tie this knot."

My body slumped with relief. I stepped closer, letting him tie a figure-eight knot around my waist and fastenthe other end of the rope to the fittings on the portside.

"H-how deep is the water?" I asked, peering over the edge of the boat.

Seth grimaced. "Not sure. I'll get as close to the shore as I can, but I'd guess it's three or four feet for sure."

I took deep breaths as Seth maneuvered the boat closer, carefully monitoring the depth of the motor in the water. The boat was several yards closer to the tree at the edge of the river, but it was still going to be a daunting walk.

"Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?" Seth asked as he re-anchored the boat.

I looked out at the tree and back to him, shaking my head. "No."

I climbed up on the stern and sat on the wall, dangling my feet over the edge. The toes of the rubber waders touched the water.

"How long are you going to be?"

I shook my head. "Not long? I don't know. I just need some time to think."

He frowned. "And it has to be there?" he asked incredulously.

I nodded again. "Yes."

Seth sighed. "Okay then, let's do this."

He came up behind me at the stern and took my hands, gently lowering me down into the water. It was cold, shockingly so, making my breath race. The water rose to my waist when my feet finally touched the pebbled bottom. Seth held my hands until I had my bearings and then I slowly began to walk, shuffling along, careful not to slip. I could see and feel the water getting shallower as I got closer to the tree. When I was finally beneath the cottonwood, I looked up. Here. This was the view my dad had when he died.

The tears started as I waded up on the shore and climbed the steep bank to be near the tree. I sat down with my back against the trunk on the far side away from Seth.

I sobbed in earnest and closed my eyes tight, attempting to remember the day. I strained at first, trying to force the memories. I could remember what I wore, where I sat in the boat, the sun high in the sky. I squinted my eyes tight, pushing my brain to endeavor to recall the specifics, but they wouldn't come.

Frustrated, I slumped over on the ground and lay back with my eyes closed. Maybe I was just stupid to come all the way here. It had been too long. I sighed; it was time to let it go. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I whispered, blinking away the tears.

Looking up at the tree, something caught my eye.

There was a Mylar balloon caught in one of the tree's branches.

Though there wasn't much sunlight, the metallic surface caught the light and reflected it.

_A shimmering hand reached toward me as a face leaned in closer, closer, red staining his lips._

I sat up abruptly, gasping for air. I could feel my heart pound in my chest in a syncopated rhythm. Was this a dream or a memory?

I was trying to make sense of the confusion in my mind. Why was the man sparkling? Why was there blood on his mouth and face?

My mind supplied a word.

A preposterous word.

_Vampire._

But vampires weren't real. Sure, there were the kind that played role playing games, psychic vampires that claimed to feed from the life force of others, but they didn't consume real blood, did they?

Shouldn't that be cannibalism?

This was crazy, _CRAZY_! There was no such thing as vampires. Furthermore, there was no way a human could issue the kind of damage my dad suffered. His throat was ripped out from ear to ear, similar to my Rochester vics; except they were…drained of blood.

Oh fuck, this was too weird, too coincidental. Vampires weren't real!

I was suddenly desperate to say it out loud to hear how crazy it was. Surely I'd be institutionalized, but I was sure it was a memory now. I could remember the man leaning in; I could _smell_ the metallic, minerally scent as he leaned over me.

My heart was racing again, and I was dizzy. The blood was rushing through my ears, and I felt sick. I took a deep breath and bent forward to put my head between my knees.

I didn't know how long I sat there, but eventually Seth's voice broke through the screaming in my own mind.

"Bella!"

I scrambled up to my knees and looked out at the river.

"Just got a text. Storm's coming in. We should bail, girl."

I looked out to the west and saw the dark, angry-looking clouds billowing. I stood up and made sure the knot was still secure around my waist before making my way back to the boat.

Seth hoisted me up, and I struggled to peel off the waders as he pulled up the anchor. I slumped down into the chair again, and he looked at me with concern.

"You okay? Did you, um, get done what you needed to?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

My eyes darted back to the tree, up to the Mylar balloon, and I shuddered. "Sorta," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around my stomach.

Seth was quiet all the way back to the launch, texting someone and keeping an eye on the weather. When we arrived, I gave him one of my business cards and asked him to have Collin give me a call.

I didn't want to go back to the inn yet, so I drove around Forks for a while. I stopped for a coffee, bought a hoodie that read FORKS from the general store, stopped at the winery for a bottle, and ended with a drive past my childhood home. I remembered my little room at the top of the stairs, the little fort I had in the backyard, and the shelf that hung behind the door where my dad always hung his gun. My mom took what fit in the car when we left, and I refused to leave without that shelf. It hung in my apartment now. I eventually got takeout from the diner and retreated to my room at the inn.

I popped the cork from the bottle of wine and began to eat while I waited for my laptop to boot up. I checked the Rochester news, happy to find rumors of a political scandal as the headline. I eventually typed the word 'vampire' into a search engine and clicked on the first result for an internet encyclopedia site. I drank straight from the bottle and giggled as I read the page. I read about the folk beliefs regarding vampires, how to identify a vampire, and the attributes of a vampire. Each part of the feature was more ridiculous than the last. It amazed me that people actually believed these old wives tales. They were absurd and just silly. In some cultures they believed a corpse would become a vampire if an animal jumped over the grave, some people cut the Achilles tendon of the dead to ensure they couldn't rise up from the earth, and still other cultures believed you could identify a vampire's grave by leading a virgin boy on a virgin horse through the cemetery. If the horse spooked over a grave, well, there's your vampire. Each story and example was more ridiculous than the last, but that might have been the wine too.

One part of the article did give me pause, the part on apotropaic magic, rituals to turn away evil: garlic, crucifixes, holy water, mustard seeds, vampires' inability to walk on consecrated ground or cross running water. I couldn't very well walk around with garlic or stakes, but there were other folk remedies I could use to protect myself, right? I could wear a crucifix or check for a vampire's shadow or reflection.

I groaned and flopped back on the pillows. VAMPIRES WEREN'T REAL! I had to let go of this absurd idea. I'd heard the story Keith told at the Seneca Museum and seen the Halloween references on the Rochester news website only a couple nights before. All this was just my runaway thoughts and nothing more. There had to be a rational explanation for what I saw as a girl, or maybe I'd just filled in the blanks in my mind with things that made sense to me at the time.

It was illogical, and that's all there was to it. I didn't want to think about it anymore, so I drank until I passed out.

Saturday was my last day in Forks. I was catching the red-eye from Seattle that night. I said goodbye to Betsy and checked out of the inn, packing everything back in the rental car. I stopped at the diner for breakfast and popped into a nearby gift shop/antique store. I browsed the aisles and jewelry cases for a few minutes before I found something that intrigued me.

"Could I see this, please?" I asked, tapping the glass case and looking at an older gentleman sitting near the cash register.

He walked over slowly, turning through the keys on a key ring until he found a small, brass one. He unlocked the case and set a small, velvet, jewelry box in front of me.

"What's that stone?" I asked, fingering the small pendant.

"It's not actually a stone, well, kinda. It's petrified wood from right here in Washington."

The silver crucifix stood out nicely against the striated, brown stone. "I'll take it," I said, digging in my pocket for the money. "And I'll wear it out, please."

Sure, maybe it was crazy, maybe _I_ was crazy, but a little extra protection never hurt, right? And it was a link to my hometown.

I paid for the necklace and quickly secured it around my neck, pleased with how it looked and felt. I thanked the man and set out for my three-and-a-half hour drive back to Seattle.

After turning in my rental and checking in my luggage and gun, I found a quiet restaurant and ordered a quick dinner. While I waited, I rifled through my carry-on and found my forgotten cell phone.

I removed the phone from my bag and turned it on, listening to the familiar boot up jingle. As soon as the phone found a signal, it instantly began alerting me to all the missed calls and texts I'd received in the last week.

Crap, I was probably fired or something and didn't know it.

I scrolled through the 'Missed Calls' log and found 28 texts in my absence. One was from my landlord telling me she'd received my rent payment, one from the bank letting me know my direct deposit had arrived in my account, two from Angela telling me she'd heard I was on vacation and that she hoped I was having fun, and the other twenty-four were from Edward Cullen.

The texts were spaced out, just a few every day, but from the few I scanned, it was obvious he was concerned and expected an answer from me.

_Bella? Have you left town?_

_Bella, I'm sorry if I upset you by showing up at your apartment that night._

_Is everything alright?_

_I'm worried about you._

_I know you asked for space, but Bella, I'm going crazy._

_I'm sorry if you're angry. Please text me so I know that you're okay. _

I was shocked, speechless, and touched. How could I have thought him a raging psychopath? I thought for a moment, debating whether or not I should reply immediately. Knowing I didn't have long before my flight, I put the phone down and waited for my dinner.

While I flew home, I was unable to think of little else but Edward. Other than the first two instances we met, he'd been nothing but nice to me. We had been making attempts to get to know one another, and I'd shared more with him than anyone I could remember in years, but what were we? Friends? Acquaintances? Was our relationship strictly professional? Did I want it to be more?

The answer was easy. Yes. I wanted more.

Even though I no longer truly suspected he was a local serial killer, my instinct told me something was wrong with Edward Cullen. I didn't know if he was violent, bipolar, crazy, or what. But before I got further involved with him, I needed to know more about him. I was now basing my distance from him on the temperature of his skin of all things. Was I looking for reasons to push him away? Had my subconscious mind let my imagination run away with itself? Did my mind make a leap between Edward's cool touch and that of the man who killed my dad? Did it automatically link them because they bore one thing in common?

But Edward's touch didn't feel the same at all. Though his skin was cold, the touch itself was warm, stimulating.

I desperately wanted, no, _needed_ something real and mature, seriously unlike the other "relationships" I had in the past. I wanted to know Edward and his flaws, and I wanted him to know mine. I wanted to be honest with him, and I hoped that he could understand and respect the person I was. If he didn't want that, I needed to know before I made an ass out of myself.

But I had made a lot of mistakes, and I didn't really understand _how_ to be with men, and I didn't know how to say that without sounding like a total addict who wanted to meet a guy, get married, and have his baby all in the same week. I just… needed to know he was serious, I guess.

I fell asleep after midnight, re-reading Edward's texts, and I was startled when the flight attendant woke me up in New York.

I took a cab home and dragged my suitcase and carry-on up the stairs to my apartment. I left everything on the living room floor and flopped onto the couch. Before I dozed off again, I sent a quick text.

To: Edward Cullen

Yes, I've been out of town. Am fine. Home now. Thanks for worrying.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_Epic thanks to DuskWatcher2153 and Solareclipses for beta-ing this chapter. Thank you for your hard work, ladies. Thinking of you, Kisbydog08.

I have a song rec for this chapter too: Plumb's "Damaged." Just a warning, it could be a trigger for some. I don't mean make light of the original meaning behind the song, I'm re-interpretting it to have a different meaning. I hope no one is offended, that's not my wish at all.

And EPIC thank you Badjujube for rec'ing me recently. It is appreciated!


	12. Uninvited

_"I need some space. My mind is really fucked up right now."_

_I don't know what I expected. Maybe I wanted him to put a bit of a fight, but he didn't. He simply sighed and ruffled up his hair. He stood stock still, looking directly in my eyes._

_I had to look away._

_"Just a little space, for a little while."_

_He nodded and backed away, eyes never deviating from mine, until I shut the door._

**EPov** _(This picks up near the beginning of Chapter 11.)_

* * *

She had shut me out, turned me away. She said she needed space and time to think.

It was the way it should be. She _should_ keep her distance from me. Vampires and humans shouldn't be friends—or anything more. She was listening to her body's instinct and keeping away from me. Fight or flight had kicked in. Her heart was racing, she was breathless, and she wouldn't let me in. It's the only sensible explanation. What else could it be?

It was the right thing, and I knew it, but why did it feel so awful? The pain of rejection stung sharply, almost as bad as the pain of transformation from my human life to this soulless existence.

I slumped against the wall, leaving a dent, no doubt. I stayed for several minutes, listening for any sign of Bella. She stayed on the other side of the door for several moments before returning to her room. I tried to remind myself she had put a small condition on her declaration. She wanted a little time—not forever. I sighed. I should go hunt. I wanted my eyes to lighten.

I didn't want to be confined, contained, or run the risk of seeing anyone in my family, so I ran all the way to the Catskills to hunt. I quickly took down a couple of deer, giving myself over to the instinct, blocking all thoughts of Bella from my primitive mind as I hunted. It would not do to remember the smell of her blood or the beat of her heart while I sank my teeth into the carotid artery of a deer and drained it dry.

When I was through, I licked my lips and disposed of the two carcasses. Task done, the first thought on my mind was Bella again. I was going to return to her apartment; I didn't even pause to think on it. I would leave her alone, but I had to know she was safe.

I ran through the night, cool air whipping past my face, and returned to her building, waiting on the roof until long after I thought she might be asleep. Cautiously, I jumped down onto her window sill and stopped.

Despite the wind blowing and the sounds of the city, it was too quiet. I realized instantly what was missing—Bella's heartbeat.

I opened the window and crept inside. All the lights were out, and the apartment was silent as a tomb. There were clothes scattered across the bed, but otherwise the room looked as it had the last time I'd been here. My mind raced. Where was she? I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. Perhaps she was working Third Shift or there was another murder?

But I had seen her car in its usual parking spot when I ascended the roof.

Maybe she had a date then?

If I had a beating heart, it surely would have thudded to a stop at the thought of another man's hands or lips upon her. I closed my eyes and could see roaming hands, wet kisses, and tangled limbs. I could imagine her face as she received pleasure from a faceless—and soon to be headless—man. Venom trickled under my tongue, stinging sharply. She was _mine,_ and death to anyone who thought otherwise.

I would wait here until she returned….

But she didn't return.

When she didn't return by morning, I called the telephone number on her business card for the station. The call went to an automated voice mail.

Panic surged in me. I had left her alone when I knew I shouldn't. Another vampire had been in the apartment next door only days ago, and I left her simply because she asked me to. I used my phone to do a quick news search of the area. There was no whisper of the "serial murderer" in the city overnight. While that gave me a temporary calm, it did not truly assuage the fear crawling through me.

I left her building and ran home to get my car. Ignoring the looks from my family when I burst through the door and grabbed my keys, I hurried to the café where we'd met up twice.

There was no scent of her.

Tugging on my hair, I stood on the corner by the café, forcing the people bustling off to work to walk around me and leave rude remarks. Feeling lost, I looked around the intersection.

I felt extreme guilt at the thought of leaving her last night to go hunt. She asked me to go, but I never should have listened. What if something happened to her? Granted, I didn't smell anything strange in her apartment, certainly no blood and no strangers, but what if someone ambushed her?

Uncertain, I returned to her apartment building and waited.

And waited.

She didn't return again that night.

Nearly in a panic now, and I decided I'd plead for help. I texted Alice and asked for her to meet me on the rooftop of Bella's building. It was 2 a.m. before she showed up.

"Sorry, Edward, I was hunting with Jasper. Where is your Bella?"

I pulled my hair again and fairly growled as I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump.

"I don't know. I was hoping maybe _you_ could tell me."

In recent weeks my family had been fairly respectful of my new-found attraction to the detective. They found humor in it, of course, and had their private thoughts about my success or failure. Carlisle, Esme, and Alice had a tentative hope, Rose was sure I'd fail and was still sore about the fact that I'd attracted attention to our lifestyle, Emmett didn't mind either way, and Jasper was ever-wary.

So long as Isabella Swan didn't know the truth, they would put up with my "silly infatuation."

"Edward, you know it's very difficult for me to see Detective Swan. I don't know her well enough."

I knew this when I asked for Alice's help, but what choice did I have? "Please? There's a rogue hunter out there behaving irresponsibly, and he has ties to Bella. Alice, I'm the only one who can protect her."

My sister huffed and rested her hands on her hips. "Alright, give me a minute." She closed her eyes, relaxed her arms, and took a deep breath. My mind instantly targeted hers, allowing me to see exactly what she would see.

She looked through the distant future, seeking out any possible avenue for Bella Swan's future to intersect my own. It would be the easiest way for Alice to see the fate of someone she didn't know well.

There was nothing but empty pathways.

"Try harder, Alice," I urged as each possible future ended at another dead end.

She growled softly, struggling not to break her concentration. "I'm trying!"

She struggled for several minutes to see anything in Bella's future, but ultimately, she sighed, defeated. "There's just nothing—but that doesn't mean anything is wrong, I just don't know her well enough to see her fate."

I nodded in thanks. "I know. I'm going in her apartment," I announced, crossing the roof to the point above Bella's window.

"What? Edward, that's—"

It was my turn to growl now. "I know. It's weird, it's creepy, whatever. Just help me, please?"

Not waiting for her, I slipped over the edge of the building and landed on Bella's window ledge. I slid the window open and crept inside.

The apartment looked just as it did the last time I was here. Bella had not been back in my absence.

The night I brought her home from the bar I'd seen a laptop in her bag. That was now my focus. I didn't want to snoop through her belongings, but my fear for her was genuine and growing.

I heard Alice land on the ledge outside Bella's window, but I was already down the hall in search of Bella's bag. I looked on the dining table, the table in the living room, and the kitchen counter with no luck. I inhaled deeply, seeking out the unique scent of the plastics and paint associated with a computer and its components, but I found nothing.

Alice had crept down the hall behind me, and stopped at the end of the corridor. As she looked around, I searched out Bella's service gun. If she was on duty she'd have it with her, but if she were ambushed, it might still be here. I'd seen her hang it on the shelf near the door. The belt was there now, but the firearm was gone.

"Edward?" Alice's voice nearly broke with emotion. I turned to look at her, waiting for her to find the words. "She _lives_ here?" She gazed around the apartment, staring. "It's empty. Sad. There's no _life_ here. No personal effects, no pictures, nothing. Humans need these things. What kind of human is your Bella?"

Bella is…

"I don't know for sure, Alice. Sad. Quiet. Alone—lonely. She has no family and few friends."

Neither of us needed to say what we were thinking—she was the perfect victim for a rogue hunter.

I didn't know what to do now. I had no clues to follow and nothing to go on. She could be near or far, alone or in the company of someone else, alive or…

I couldn't bear to think of that.

I only had one resource left—Bella's cell number.

I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.

To: Isabella Swan

Bella? Have you left town?

I waited for a prompt reply.

I waited for nothing.

After an hour, Alice and I returned to the roof. I handed her the keys to my car and gave her a pat on the back. I knew she felt guilty. She left with a sincere apology; I stayed until dawn. I made several calls to the police station. They went to voice mail.

At my wit's end, I sent Bella another text.

To: Isabella Swan

Bella, I'm sorry if I upset you by showing up at your apartment that night.

_Really_ sorry. Please. Just let me know you're safe.

* * *

I stayed on the rooftop of her building all morning. I didn't remember what nausea felt like, but I felt positively sick with worry. I couldn't fathom wanting to drink from Bella mere weeks ago when now I realized I'd do anything to keep her safe—to keep her with me.

Just after noon I had a terrible moment of ambiguity as the Tech Unit from the Police Department arrived. My initial feeling was fear—had something happened to Bella? And alternately, I had hope that I would see her when I realized the team was there to process her neighbor's apartment. Unfortunately, she wasn't with them. The Tech Unit began to remove anything from the apartment that could be used as evidence. They wouldn't find anything useful. I took the opportunity to return home; I hadn't seen my family in several days, and I knew that if Bella returned in my absence I would be able to smell her. I couldn't search for her alone, I needed help.

I ran home, careful to observe the sights, scents, or signs of any rogue vampires. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I picked up the scents of various family members on the trails in the woods surrounding our home.

Esme was planting some mums out front when I arrived and pumpkins, gourds, and variegated ears of maize decorated the home no one ever visited. She dropped her shovel, and her face lit up when I ran across the lawn, slowing to a walk near the porch.

"Here to get your car?" Her voice betrayed the hurt she felt. Her eyes took in my rumpled clothes and scruffy hair. "Here to change?"

I forced myself to swallow, a leftover human habit when consumed with guilt. "No. I'd, um, like to talk to the family."

A smile suddenly brightened her face. "Really? Alice told us you'd be stopping by today, but I didn't figure—wait, you're not leaving again, are you?"

The fall breeze picked up, taking Esme's smile with it.

I shook my head. "No. I'm not leaving. I need… help." It was easier to ask for than I imagined.

The smile returned to her face. "With your human? Your Bella?"

She wasn't mine yet. Not really, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise. "Yes. I think she's in trouble."

Esme dusted her hands off on her jeans and then grabbed my hand. "We'll help. We'll do anything we can."

She all but dragged me in the house. The rest of the family was amassing in the living room even before we crossed the threshold. Alice flopped on the couch next to Jasper, Rosalie paced by the window, trying desperately to look aloof and uncaring, and Emmett leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Carlisle was the last to enter the room, settling into the empty sofa across from Alice and Jasper. "Alice told us you might want to speak with us," Carlisle offered, reaching for Esme's hand. She took his hand but didn't join him in sitting. Instead, she stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

I nodded to Alice in silent thanks, but I just stood there speechless. I rubbed at the back of my neck, unsure of what to say. I was walking a fine line between utter creep and concerned paramour, and I knew that whatever I said added stress onto my family's shoulders.

"Just tell them what you need, Edward. Tell them what you know." Alice was always so encouraging. I wondered if I was half the sibling she was.

Looking around at the faces of my family, I knew I had no choice but to plead my case. Bellawas that important to me.

"I think Bella—Detective Swan—is in trouble."

"I knew it was going to be about that girl," Rosalie muttered, leaning against the window sill and peering out into the encroaching forest behind the house.

"What's wrong with her, Edward?" Esme asked, drawing my attention from the negativity on the far side of the room.

I sighed. "That's just it. I don't know. I don't know that she _is_ in trouble, but I haven't seen her in a couple days, and she isn't replying to my messages."

Carlisle nodded. "And is that unusual? I didn't realize your relationship had progressed beyond… curious observation."

Rosalie turned away from the window now. "Oh, come off it, Carlisle. Say it like it is. It's stalking!"

I got up from the couch, attracting Emmett's attention, and began pacing at the opposite end of the room from Rosalie. Carlisle tried to diffuse the situation by asking everyone to remain calm, that we were simply engaging in conversation, but I felt as though I was about to combust. The only thing that kept me from taking Rosalie's bait was the fact that I needed her help. Alice started to rock in her chair, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. She started to recite the Declaration of Independence.

"Edward, if you'd prefer a more private conversation, I'd be happy to discuss things with you—"

I cut him off before he could finish his thought, but I knew he was offering to go on a hunt.

"No, I need all of you. I have no idea where Bella is. The rogue hunter hasn't attracted any attention in days, and I don't know if his or her path finally crossed Bella's or not. I've gone everywhere I can think of where she might be, and she hasn't been back home either."

"Hey, lover boy," Rosalie called, getting my attention. "Did you ever think that she's trying to give you the slip? Maybe she isn't taking your calls and messages on purpose."

I was just about to let her have it when Alice stood up and stepped in. "Get off his back. He's doing the right thing to protect her. She's his mate. She'll be one of us someday."

You could have heard a pin drop, with or without the vampire hearing.

I stood frozen, stunned. I didn't know what to say, think, or feel. I barely acknowledged the shocked expressions of my family. I had been so busy fighting my draw and bloodlust for Bella and then giving myself over to the attraction and trying to protect her to worry about the long-term. How did I feel about this glimpse into my own future?

I hadn't ever thought of changing someone before; never thought of asking them to endure the pain of transformation or relegating someone to taking the lives of animals—or humans.

But the temptation! God. I could imagine how beautiful and strong she would be. I had so many questions. When would it happen? Would she be happy? I could imagine forever with her. I could imagine an end to the loneliness. Curiosity eventually won out, and I had to ask.

"How, Alice?"

She shook her head sadly. "I still can't see her immediate future. I just see you with her down the road. That means she's safe now, Edward, but I still don't know where she is. I saw it this morning, when you realized you'd do anything to keep her safe and with you."

Safety was a temporary luxury. There was still no getting around the fact that we had a sloppy rogue hunter on the loose and something needed to be done about it. If not by us, then someone else would interfere. Someone who wouldn't take kindly to an investigator meddling in the lives of a vampire coven. _The Volturi_. It was undeniable now; Bella was going to be mine, and I wanted to protect what was mine.

"Oh, this is too rich. Edward's going to bite a human." Rosalie threw her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms across her chest as she stared out the window.

I'd heard enough. "Hey, Rose, Emmett used to be a human once too. Remember? And you coveted him, but you got Carlisle to do your dirty work, didn't you?"

Her head drooped, the simple action betraying the shock, guilt, and sadness consuming her mind. She wondered, for the millionth time, if Emmett resented her.

I couldn't think about her guilt. Would I feel the same way one day?

_Would I change Bella? Would it be planned? How would I tell her what I was?_

Carlisle interrupted my reverie. "Edward, I know Alice has given you much to consider, but how can we help?"

I shook off the intoxicating thoughts rattling around my head and refocused on the situation at hand.

"We need to better monitor the rogue in our midst. He's getting too sloppy, drawing too much attention to _all_ the vampires in the area. We'll have the Volturi in our backyard. We don't know if the nomad is aware that his latest victim was the neighbor of one of the lead detectives investigating the crimes, but he or she has to know their behavior has caught the attention of the authorities.

"We need to intervene. For myself, I'm involved to keep Bella safe, but also to keep the Volturi from investigating the crimes—and us."

We hadn't met the first coven Carlisle was a member of, but we knew they watched us with interest—and we didn't want them taking a closer look.

"So, what? You think we ought to split up and look for the rogue?" Emmett questioned, pretending to crack his knuckles.

Jasper nodded and tented his fingers. "I think Edward is right. For the safety of the family I think we need to run interference and find out what's going on with the vampire in our midst. Are they an inexperienced newborn or an irresponsible savage?" he offered, always the tactician. Alice took his hand in solidarity.

Carlisle nodded and looked first at Esme, then the rest of us. "Okay, let's be smart. No one should be alone, and we should stay in contact. We don't want to overwhelm anyone, but we don't want to be ambushed and attacked either." He sighed suddenly and scrubbed his hands over his face in an all too human gesture. "We should have gotten involved sooner. We shouldn't have given anyone this much leeway in our territory."

We divided up then, and I knew I wasn't going to voluntarily team up with Rosalie. I asked for some time with Carlisle, but I was still leery about leaving Bella's place unprotected, so Esme and Alice agreed to go there, while a more contrite Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper decided to scout the north and west, and Carlisle and I would explore the south and east.

Each group set out when they were ready. I waited for Carlisle to change out of his scrubs and grab his pager. While I sat on the porch waiting, I sent Bella another text.

To: Bella Swan

Is everything all right?

I'm worried about you.

As with the others, it went unanswered. Carlisle appeared moments later.

"No word from Bella?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I just want to know for myself that she's safe. Perhaps that's foolish considering Alice sees a future for us, but I want to know."

Carlisle and I took off in a sprint across the yard to the tree line.

"That was some news from Alice, wasn't it? How're you feeling about it?"

I could always be myself with Carlisle; he was a father and mentor in every sense of the word. He had experiences I didn't, he was patient, non-judgmental, and he genuinely cared.

"I'm—overwhelmed," I began, the leaves and twigs crunching under my feet as we raced through the countryside, monitoring the air for anything unusual. "I don't know that I'd held out any hope for a mate. I've seen what you, Emmett, and Jasper have with your mates, but I'd never felt that kind of connection or draw until I encountered Bella. Once I met her, it was one episode of sensory overload after another. I didn't have time to dwell on the idea that she might be 'the one,' I was too concerned with the attraction to her blood, the fact that I couldn't read her mind, and the notion that she suspected us of the crimes, but she didn't know why."

"And now?" Carlisle asked, dodging between the trees.

"Now? Now I'm unsure how to proceed. When do I tell Bella the truth about our family? How do I say it? When do we get together? Is she safe? How…close… can we get? Can I give her the kind of relationship she wants?"

I could hear the humor in Carlisle's voice. "That's a lot of questions. Sometimes it's best to just let love and life take its course. Your control is strong, and your hand is light. You won't hurt Bella now that you've realized what she is to you. Keep yourself in check, and you will be fine. I can't say when the right time to tell Bella is. When the time comes, you'll just know. Be careful about sharing it—you know the rules—and you wouldn't want to be forced into a Volturi-imposed timeline. Trust yourself, trust Alice."

Truth be told, those were only the questions I had the guts to voice aloud. What would Bella say when I told her what I was? A corpse-cold, severely obsessed, undead suitor. What a catch. How would she react? Alice's vision of the future didn't give me any comfort; the future could always change. Furthermore, what kind of future would Bella and I have? Would she want to become a vampire? Could I change her? It was a huge decision. Not a life changing one, but a life _ending_ one. It would be three days of excruciating pain, and I wasn't sure I could stand by and watch that kind of suffering.

An unbidden thought crept into my mind. It would also mean forever with Bella and a kind of physical affection I'd imagined since the first day I saw her. I closed my eyes and envisioned her gold eyes clouded with lust as I gripped her hips and buried myself inside her.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind.

For now.

"It's good to see you hunting again too. I'll admit, I was worried about you for a while."

I nodded. "I wasn't trying to do anything, you know." I wasn't sure if it was the full truth. I'd quit hunting during the summer because I was lonely and depressed. I wasn't that big of a drama queen to think I'd 'end it all,' but I was frustrated and angry. I didn't resume hunting until after I'd met Bella. After I met her I wanted my eyes to return to gold, the black scared humans.

I couldn't search for more than a few hours at a time without sending her another text.

My fear escalated when it went unanswered again. Maybe Rosalie was right, maybe she was ignoring me or hiding.

* * *

No one found anything of consequence on our recon mission. Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie came across some new scents, but they were faint. We decided to patrol every day for the foreseeable future to ensure the safety of Bella—and Rochester.

As I stood atop Bella's building that night awaiting her return, it afforded me a great deal of time to think. Carlisle was right, maybe I just needed to let things run on their own course. It was against my very nature to relax, to be patient, but if I was going to forge a relationship with a human I might as well get used to waiting, of thinking of her first. However, I realized what a fine line I would be walking. If I waited too long to tell Bella the truth, she could accuse me of lying, of letting her get too attached before she could make an informed decision. On the other hand, if I told her too early, there might not be a future for us at all.

I also sent another text.

To: Bella Swan

I know you asked for space, but Bella, I'm going crazy.

If I was feeling crazy now, I couldn't imagine myself in another few days, or a week, or a month! When would she come back?

Not for the first time, I began to wonder if there was any way I could find Bella that I hadn't already considered. I gave a moment's pause to going to the police station and peeking around Angela's or Detective Newton's minds and prompting them for some answers, but Alice sent me an immediate text to let me know that wouldn't be a good idea.

For the rest of the week we continued to patrol, even thought we knew our rogue could be in the Yukon or in the Deep South. We had often made hunting trips to Michigan, Maine, or Canada on a whim. Vampires could travel anywhere and quickly.

Friday it was my turn to run with Rosalie. Things were tense between us, but her thoughts were contrite. We ran west along the coast of Lake Ontario toward Niagara Falls, neither of us speaking until she eventually cracked.

"I'm sorry, you know. I didn't really mean to hurt you. As you know, I didn't adapt well to change as a human, and it's even stronger now. I'm just worried, Edward. I'm worried we'll be discovered, worried we'll be blamed for what's going on, and I'm worried the Volturi will come down on us. And I worry about losing my place in the family. I know I'm not easy to get along with, but what if your Bella is liked better than me?"

I didn't want to merely downplay her confession, I knew it was genuine. Instead, I had to relate it to her and assuage her fears. "No one can replace you, Rose. I don't know what else to do. Wouldn't you do anything for Em? Bella is my mate, or she's going to be. I'd do anything for her, but that doesn't mean I'd abandon the family or put us in danger."

She stopped near the bluffs at Hamlin State Park, scaling the rocky ground with ease. She surveyed the territory to the west looking for anything suspicious. _I'll try to be patient and to understand your choices, _she thought, unable—or unwilling—to say the words aloud.

I nodded, not wanting to dwell on the conversation if she was uncomfortable. So long as she was trying, that was good enough for me. For now.

"Race you to the border!" she called over her shoulder, leaping from the cliff down onto the sand and causing a rockslide.

I let her win.

Saturday finally came around and brought with it the sun. I couldn't lurk on Bella's rooftop, so I stayed indoors with the family.

The Policeman's Ball was quickly approaching, and Alice used the 'inclement weather' to prepare for the event. Corsages and boutonnieres were ordered, wardrobes coordinated, and a very large check was written as our family's donation. I aimed for privacy and holed up in my room with my cell phone awaiting the message that wouldn't come, but I couldn't tune out the family's excitement at the chance to get out and mingle with Rochester's finest. The who's who of western New York would inevitably be there. Even as I heard Alice, Rose, and Esme discussing trending fall colors, the pros and cons of certain flower blossoms over others, and whether or not the ten percent increase over last year's contribution was sufficient, I wondered if Bella would really be there.

I'd seen the RSVP on the refrigerator in her apartment and she had checked the box on the invite confirming she was attending. I couldn't wait to see what she might wear.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. I was frustrated, in more ways than one, and I felt cooped up. I waited until well after dusk, when twilight stretched across the sky, and then I decided to go for a run. Emmett offered to tag along, but I knew he already promised to help Jasper and Rosalie give Jasper's old 1959 Triumph Trophy motorcycle a tune up. Besides, sometimes I just appreciated the silence of my own mind.

I left the house and ran east. While I tried to enjoy the earthen scent of fall in the air and the cloudless sky, I was too busy searching for the scent of a stranger to enjoy much. And Bella was on my mind, as always.

Running for hours, I eventually crossed the border into Canada before my phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the screen not surprised to see Alice's name. I debated not answer for a moment, but I knew she'd just call back.

"Hello, Alice."

"She's going to text you. I've seen it."

I nearly dropped the phone in shock. "What? When? Is she home?"

Her voice was buzzing with excitement. "I don't know. Tonight? Tonight. Yes definitely. I still can't see her well—though it does seem to be getting better. I don't know where she is now, but she'll be home by morning. I see you there—"

It was all I needed to hear.

I jammed the phone back in my pocket and began the run home to Rochester.

I was on the roof at Bella's apartment by 4a.m., but a quick check of her apartment told me she hadn't arrived yet. As I waited, I wondered what her text might say. Alice seemed excited and happy, but she seemed that way more often than not, and I think she would forewarn me if the reply was negative.

I waited impatiently as the people in the apartment buildings below began to wake up and start their days. I paced the rooftop until nearly eleven when I heard a car pull up.

Even before I peered over the edge of the building, I heard the cardiac melody that kindled my long-still heart. I could smell her scent on the breeze as her hair whirled around her face, and I got my first look at her in a week. She was safe, and exhausted if the way she dragged her luggage away from the taxi was any indication. She _had_ gone away, but where to? She was as pale as ever, so definitely nowhere warm and sunny. Regardless, a part of me wondered where she'd been and who she'd gone to see.

It was only a few minutes later when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

From: Bella Swan

Yes, I've been out of town. Am fine. Home now. Thanks for worrying.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Thank you to the lovely and talented duskwatcher2153 for the beta._

WOW! I'm absolutely floored by the outpouring of support this fic has received recently! Epic thanks to m7707 for rec'ing my fic. I don't know who rec'd me at ADF, but thank you, mystery person! ;-) I've tried to answer as many reviews as possible, but I was sort of overwhelmed, lol. I'll do my best to answer any questions you might have though- providing it doesn't spoil you!

I know there's been a lot of worry that I won't finish this fic, but I can put that to rest! I know I've been slow to update lately, but I am a busy college student who had a crazy semester this fall. I'm using Christmas break to write as much as I can. I'll never bail on this fic (or the fandom!) This is absolutely my happy place, and I love being able to share it with so many awesome people- like you all! I'm sorry I'm a slowpoke.

So, no worries! We're back to Bella for the next chapter, and the Policeman's Ball is coming soon! Thank you all for reading. Much love.


	13. Paper Faces on Parade

I think I slept another eighteen hours after I got back to Rochester. Unfortunately, it started me off on a strange week. The more I tried to forget about my bizarre delusion—the vampire one—the more it consumed me, and I was starting to think something was wrong with me. It wasn't just the vampire thing I couldn't shake though.

So, like any other time I needed to avoid thinking, I threw myself into my work. Since there were no murders attributed to the serial killer, I helped out on some regular cases: murders, rapes, as well as breaking and enterings. The hours weren't as regular, and I found myself on duty all hours of the day and night.

By Friday I was exhausted again and, I was looking forward to the weekend, or what little of a weekend I might actually have. I lounged at my desk and waited for my computer to shut down. Angela came into my cubicle and flopped down in the extra chair.

"I'm so glad it's Friday," she lamented, wiping her glasses on the hem of her shirt. "I'm definitely looking forward to getting my drink on next weekend."

I frowned and spun on my chair toward her. "Why? What's next weekend?"

She looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. "The Policeman's Ball. You're still coming, right? You told me you were."

Shit.

I'd totally forgotten about the annual charity event for the police department. Every year the theme was more cliché and outlandish than the last year: Caribbean Carnivale, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Sock Hop, and a variety of others, I'm sure. I vaguely remembered agreeing to go, since I'd found an excuse for not attending the ball every other year while I'd been here. I hated the thought of going, but it was a big deal for the department and the community. We needed the support, and it was a way the entire department could honor the profession and anyone we'd lost in the field. Out of supreme guilt, I knew I ought to go.

"Oh God," I complained, letting my head fall into my open hands. "I totally forgot all about it. I've been so busy with cases and my vacation. I didn't even remember to put it on my calendar."

"Do you have anything you can wear?" Angela asked, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket.

I arched an eyebrow in reply. I pointed at my wrinkled black pants and the clearly unironed blouse I pulled straight off the hanger that morning. "Ang, take a guess. I don't even know what the damn theme of the ball is!"

Angela was furiously texting, only half-listening to what I was saying. "Get your coat and purse. I just texted Ben, he knows not to expect me for a while. We need to head over to the mall and find you something to wear."

I grimaced but relented with a heavy sigh.

.:::::.

An hour later, I found myself in a dressing room at the mall, sitting in my bra and underwear as Angela scurried back and forth between the racks and my fashion room of doom. "Karma Chameleon" was playing on Muzak. There must have been an advertisement out front letting every teenage girl within a hundred mile radius know this was the place to be on a Friday night. Angela and I were the only females there over the age of eighteen.

Most of the dresses I vetoed while they were still on the hanger. I sat, shivering, waiting on the little stool in the dressing room for Angela to return with the next _couture terribles_. A gaggle of girls from the nearby room giggled uproariously, adding insult to the injury of shopping.

I dropped my head into my hands, wondering how I got here. I was trying on the same dresses as high school girls, stuck going to a horrifying formal event with my coworkers. Why did I agree to this?

"Bella? Give this one a go," Angela called from the other side of the door.

I sighed, ready to be done. "Ang, if it's neon pink, dusted with glitter, or so short you can see my hoo-ha, take it back. I can't bear another one."

I couldn't bear the laughter coming from the next dressing room either.

"It's none of the above. I promise. Just try it on?"

Angela's voice was pleading, and I couldn't say no. I opened the door and stuck my arm out. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the holy hell in a size four.

I cracked one eye open, but my apprehension wasn't warranted; the dress was beautiful.

It was a floor-length, navy blue, one-shouldered gown with a pleated bodice and a cascading ruffle that led down to a slit up the front. It had a sophistication that perhaps I did not, but I couldn't imagine _not_ feeling beautiful and confident in this dress.

I turned my back to the mirror and stepped carefully into the garment, shimmying the fabric up my torso. I inched the zipper as far as I could on my own and let out a heavy breath as I turned to face my reflection.

"Well?" Angela asked, gently tapping on the door.

"It's—gorgeous," I admitted, gazing at the garment gently hugging my body. The indigo blue fabric complimented my pale skin and nicely contrasted my dark hair. I slipped my arms out of my bra straps to get the full effect of the dress. I loved the empire waist and the one strap that angled over the left shoulder.

"Can I see?"

I opened the fitting room door and Angela slipped in with a wide smile and bright eyes.

"WOW! You look amazing. How does it feel? Is it comfortable enough to wear all night?" She leaned against the door and adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses before folding her arms across her chest.

I smoothed my hands over the waist and my hips. "Yeah. I feel good—I mean, it feels good. Does it look okay? Is the slit in the front too high?"

Angela scoffed with a snort. "Bella, you look so much more than okay. And no, the slit isn't too high. It's just perfect."

_Perfect_. I wasn't used to that.

.:::::.

It was decided that I needed a strapless bra when I confessed to not owning one, and Angela was as serious as a heart attack about having underwear to match. I thought the whole thing was pointless, as no one was going to see them but me, but she promised it would complete the outfit and give me a confidence boost too.

Then of course there were shoes. Angela oohed and ahhed over four inch heels that would kill me before the night was over. I was thinking some flats were more my style, but I compromised and bought a silver pair of strappy heels that were only two and a half inches high. Maybe I wouldn't die in them.

I'd dropped nearly half a grand, and I thought I was pretty well set as we walked out to the car together until Angela said "Now all you've got left to get is your mask."

_Excuse me?_

"What mask?" I asked, hanging the dress in the back of Angela's crossover. I slammed the door and stood there, looking at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation that would make this new revelation make sense.

She didn't look at me as she climbed in the car. "For the dance. It's a masquerade, didn't I tell you that?"

_Ah, no?_

I rolled my eyes as I climbed in the car with her. "You most certainly didn't. A masquerade? Really? That's sort of corny."

By the way she was staring I'd obviously missed the point. "Oh c'mon, get on board. Every year it's a bit cliché, but it's _fun_, Bella. Everyone will be wearing a mask. It's the week before Halloween."

Maybe I was a big ol' party pooper, but all I could think of was that it would be a perfect opportunity for a serial killer to show up absolutely hidden in public.

"Yeah, alright," I relented, ready to have the night done and over with. "But I don't want to look like a butterfly attacked my face or a chicken landed on my head or anything. No Zorro masks either."

.:::::.

The Halloween store was full of children sword fighting, attempting to scare each other, or yelling "MOM, LOOK!" at the top of their lungs. I was going to choose something and get out—quick.

"Oh my God, look at that vampire!"

My head whipped around to the direction that Angela was pointing. My heart pounded and my breathing sped, and I had no idea what to expect. A large mural adorned the wall near the decorations. A striking vampire was bending over a swooning woman, and he was preparing to bite her.

"Sorry," Angela confessed, a little red-faced, "I know I'm totally weird, but that is hot."

She grabbed my elbow and steered me toward a wall of masks and other accessories. I couldn't exactly disagree with her though. The traditional image of the vampire in a cloak seducing the young woman was attractive, but was that just the fantasy? Was the alternative terrifying?

_Grr!_ _Of course it wasn't terrifying; there's no such thing as vampires!_

There was a wall of masks to sort through. Venetian masks, harlequin masks, devils, angels, cats—things with feathers, lace, sequins, and ears or wings! It was overwhelming and just not me. To her credit, Angela tried to be helpful with her suggestions, but I knew I wanted something a little more subtle. After fifteen or twenty minutes of browsing, I finally found something I could work with. It was a sapphire blue matte glitter mask with some peacock feather eyelashes and a small spray of peacock feathers and turquoise and teal leaves in the front. It would compliment my navy dress perfectly.

Angela squealed and clapped a little when I slipped the mask on. I assumed that was a good thing and bought it.

* * *

I tried to keep busy all weekend. I went to the gun range, to the gym, and ended up getting called to a hit and run. I didn't want to think about Forks, and I didn't want to think about Edward, but my subconscious prevented me from fully separating myself from him. I had asked for space because things were moving quickly, and at the time I wasn't sure _who_ he was to me: serial murderer or oddly intense hottie. The fact that I couldn't stop thinking of him only reinforced in my mind that we really had forged a connection, and that I needed to take a risk. A big risk. And I could no longer believe that he had a real connection to the man who killed my dad. Because he had cold hands he was a vamp—_no, I wouldn't allow myself to go there_—a killer? It was preposterous.

I found myself at the café, hoping he'd be there, and I started to compose a text a dozen times but never sent any of them. I was sure of him, I was sure I wanted to try to be with him, but I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know how to extend myself, to trust, to be open without being needy or co-dependent, and not be the weird girl obsessed with murder.

Maybe I could ask Angela. She and Ben seemed to be positively normal in the relationship department. We had made tentative plans to get dressed and ready together on Saturday before the ball. I knew I could trust her, but it was just another person I had to warm up to.

On Monday, the week of the Policeman's Ball, I was awakened at 5:00 a.m. by my cell phone ringing.

"Swan, it looks like we have another one. The Tech Unit is on the way to Palmyra, New York. It's a small village, and the Chief of Police gave us jurisdiction. I'll text you the address after I call Newton."

The chief was brusque but the frustration was evident in his voice. If I felt pressure to solve the crimes, I knew he felt it tenfold.

I dressed in the dark and hurried outside, holding my bag between my teeth and shoving my arms into my coat sleeves. As I fumbled through my bag for my keys, I had the odd feeling that someone was watching me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I got goose bumps. I knew it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I got in the car and locked the door before considering that this whole vampire thing was making me ridiculously paranoid.

The drive between Rochester and Palmyra was quick. City blocks gave way to checkerboard fields and woods. I turned off the state highway onto a private access road marked with No Trespassing signs. The road dead ended, and I parked behind the Tech Unit van. I didn't see Mike's car, but I could see the Tech Unit working in the woods under the lights. I stopped at the van and grabbed a few pairs of rubber gloves and stuffed them in my pocket.

I began walking over the uneven ground, leaves crunching under my feet. There would be no sneaking up on this scene. Even in the dark, I could see a man in camouflage gear leaning up against a tree. A compound bow was by his side, and the agony in his face was illuminated by the screen of his cell phone. I assumed he had stumbled upon the scene.

"Morning all, what do we have?" I called aloud, careful to keep my distance from the center of the scene where the grass was tallest and ochre leaves heavily coated the ground.

"Well," Angela sighed, wiping her forehead on the sleeve of her jacket, "we've got a vic, but that's about all we know."

I was confused. "Gender? Race? Age?"

Angela shook her head. "Nada. But if I had to guess, I'd say we have a middle-aged female."

I frowned. "Is the decomposition that bad?" I got out my notepad and started jotting some preliminary notes down.

"I'm afraid so. We'll need forensics to ID the vic."

I knew the tests could take days, weeks even, to identify the age, gender, and race of the person. Even if there was a missing person report filed, we'd have to wait until we had confirmation to declare who it was.

"So, in the current state, how long has our vic been out in the elements?" I asked, seeing the red lights from another cop's car in the distance.

Angela sighed and shrugged a little. "Tough to tell. We had a hot summer. It could be as soon as a couple months, but as much as a year. I would guess at least five or six months though."

I jotted more notes down, but suddenly I stopped writing. "Wait. If the body is in a state of severe decomp, how is it that the Chief thought it might be related to the other crimes?"

"Well," Angela began, "there's substantial damage to the throat and the back as with the other victims. We won't know until we do some testing if it was post-mortem damage caused by an animal or if it was the wound that caused the death."

Based on all our other victims, and the vast amount of time that had passed since this person died, I didn't think we'd find any concrete evidence from the probable murder itself, but if we could find some evidence of an animal attack that might point us in the right direction.

"That's Larry over there." Angela indicated to the man leaning against the tree. "He's the one who called 911. He was _really_ shaken up when we got here."

I nodded and heard the sound of leaves crunching behind me and knew it must be Mike. He joined me, looking as tired as I felt. "The body is in a bad state of decomp. Angela said it's probably been here a few months at least. I can't imagine there's any evidence left. The guy over there found the body and called it in," I said under my breath.

Mike nodded. "Lead the discussion. I'll pick things up as we go."

We walked over to where the man in camo was sitting against the oak tree. He quickly tucked his cell phone into his breast pocket.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm Detective Swan, this is Detective Newton. We understand you found the body?" Mike and I both readied our pens and notepads for Larry's reply.

He coughed uncomfortably; his hands shook as he readjusted his baseball hat. "Yeah, I'm Larry, I own the land and the deer blind. I came out this morning to bow hunt, and I found th-the body on my walk up to the blind."

Poor guy was pasty and pale and so obviously affected by what he'd seen. The guilty could never fake it this well, and serial killers were too smug and proud of themselves and sought out the attention they could receive for their 'achievement.'

"How long have you owned the property?" Mike asked, his eyes darting between the bow and the deer blind.

Larry shook his head. "I've owned it seventeen years, and it's been months since I've been out here. Months! I work third shift as a security guard, and I finally got a couple weeks off to come out and hunt. You don't think _I_ did this, do you? I didn't do this! I don't even know who that could be!" His eyes darted between Mike's and mine in an appeal to hear him out. His voice broke and trembled with fear as he tore the hat from his head and shielded his eyes.

After the display, I didn't think he did it, not for one minute, but I would investigate it because I owed it to the department and to the city of Rochester. "Don't worry, Larry," I issued calmly. He pulled the hat away from his face, and his dark eyes appraised me skeptically. "Let's just talk, okay?"

While Angela and the team searched for clues, we asked him routine questions about his whereabouts that morning, who else lived with him on the property, if he knew of any missing persons, or if we might find anything suspicious in a background check. He was beyond cooperative, and his voice held none of the elusiveness or vagueness criminals usually engage to throw us off or seek out attention. Larry seemed to be doing okay until the coroner's van arrived and the gurney and body bag rattled over the uneven ground, then the tears started all over again.

Mike dismissed Larry with a stern warning not to leave town and with the knowledge that the department would be stopping by in the upcoming days and weeks. As the body was loaded up, I found Angela taking off her gloves.

"Anything?"

She sighed and braced her spine with her hands as she did a back bend stretch. "No, damn it. We'll look at the body in the lab, and we'll probably come out in daylight to see the deer blind and the tree stand, but I doubt I'll find a thing."

As the sun peeked over the horizon, we returned to the station to run a background check on Larry and see if he would have any connection to the other victims. While we waited to ID the body, we'd search missing persons to try and narrow the results. Because the death occurred outside Rochester for the first time, I'd made the decision to do a little research on my own and see if any other neighboring counties were experiencing anything similar.

It seemed like it would be another long week of research and interviews. Mike and I spent the afternoon filming a short interview with the local news and with Ben for the newspaper. As soon as the story broke, the P.R. rep for the police department and the Chief spent the rest of the day fielding calls and giving sound bites to the press.

Tuesday and Wednesday, Tyler, Mike, and I teamed with the Impact Team to search through dozens of missing persons files, beginning three months ago and going back a year. We also furthered our investigation of Larry. He had no connections to any of the other vics, and he easily passed the lie-detector Mike oversaw on Thursday. As I suspected, we concluded that he had nothing to do with the serial killings—whether the body found on his property had something to do with the case was another matter.

By Friday we had made little progress with anything. Forensics had returned to Larry's property in daylight and searched his blind and tree stand. No human blood was found. Mike, Tyler, and I were forced to admit that our John or Jane Doe could be from any of several counties in the region and it was futile to target just one county. The mood in the office was somber at best, and all the while, looming over us, was the Policeman's Ball on Saturday night. The Chief and the mayor debated canceling, but they conceded that the charity work the department provided was far too important to abandon.

* * *

I slept in on Saturday, the first day I'd been able to since my vacation ended. I made coffee and lazed about as I flipped through the latest issue of _Guns and Ammo _while waiting for my nail polish on my fingers and toes to dry. The garment bag that held my dress hung on the bedroom door, and my shoes and accessories were bagged up on the floor. The sight of them alternately caused me panic and exhilaration. I didn't go to my own high school prom or college formals either. A Friday or Saturday night usually found me alone in my dorm with ill-gotten hooch, or at a small party shyly trying to impress boys I thought were better than me. It never ended well.

I was nervous about the evening for a plethora of reasons. For one, I was sure either the serial killer would be masked among us tonight, taunting us, or there would be another murder. I was also nervous for myself and my innate tendency to be socially awkward. Most of all, I wasn't sure if I was more scared that Edward Cullen _would_ show up or that he _wouldn't_. I knew his family had given substantial donations in the past, but that didn't mean they would attend the ball tonight.

I sipped my black coffee and imagined him there. What would I say? Would he bring a date? Perhaps it would break my heart or cure my curious obsession.

In the afternoon, I threw on jeans and my MSU sweatshirt before I tidied up the apartment a bit and packed up what little makeup I had so I could get ready at Angela's. My arms were heavy with garment bags, shopping bags, and my makeup bag when the doorbell rang.

I couldn't imagine who it was. I didn't give my apartment number to the cab company I called not thirty minutes ago, and I was sure as hell not expecting company. I dropped the bag containing my shoes halfway down the hall and kick them toward the front door while tripping over them as whoever it was at the door knocked this time.

"HANG ON!" I hollered out, frustrated, feeling the furrow between my eyes forming. I flung the bags from my arms onto the couch, probably wrinkling my dress in the process, but right now the whole ordeal seemed like a big pain in the ass.

I squinted through the peep hole in the door, surprised to see a girl in a bright yellow hoodie. There was something in her hands, but I couldn't tell what it was. As she lifted her hand to knock again, I opened the door and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" the girl gushed, stepping closer to the threshold. I barely had time to register the logo of a local flower shop on her sweatshirt before she started talking again. "I was supposed to deliver this half an hour ago, but I got behind. Anyway, here you go, have a good afternoon."

She shoved a clear box into my hands and hurried to the stairs around the corner from my apartment. Stunned, I shut the door behind her and stared down at the pink lily nestled in the box.

It was simple and perfect, delicate, yet daring. I could smell the sweet, light aroma curling out of the box like the silver ribbon cascading around the stem. A small card was tucked inside the box. It bore the flawless penmanship I'd seen before.

_To: Bella_

_From: A Stranger_

I knew _exactly_ who it was from. How did he know I'd be going tonight? Did it mean he would be there?

A swarm of butterflies fluttered inside me, and I bit back a smile. I didn't know what to do or how to act around him in front of my co-workers, but I felt sure that letting go of my suspicions was the right thing. And letting go of the vampire thing was next.

The cab I'd called arrived only a few minutes later. I was hoping to drink away my anxiety tonight, and I didn't want to worry about my car. I struggled to gather everything in one armful and be mindful of the star-shaped blossom inside the plastic box.

My arms burned with exertion, the burden of packages in my arms made it feel as though they would fall off as I made my way downstairs and across the parking lot where the cab waited. The driver had the courtesy to climb out and open the back door as I approached. _Cinderella and her coach, _I thought sarcastically, shaking my head. There was nothing princess-like about me.

"Thanks," I grunted, flinging the stuff into the back seat and shaking my arms out.

He doffed his hat slightly. "Running away from home, honey?" he asked with a raspy chuckle.

I scoffed. Little did he know I didn't really have a home to run from. "For tonight anyway," I answered, slumping down beside my stuff. I was exhausted already, and the evening hadn't even started yet. _This_ was why I didn't get dressed up and go out—I didn't have the patience.

The ride was short, and the driver kept trying to make polite conversation, but I wasn't interested. I sat with the Star Gazer Lily on my lap, my mind jumping from one thought to another. _Why would Edward send me a corsage? How did he know I was going tonight? Was he going? What if I looked like an absolute idiot?_

_UGH!_

I willed myself to stop. It wouldn't do me any good to speculate, and if I knew anything about Edward Cullen, it was that he was unpredictable.

I texted Angela to let her know I was close, and she volunteered to send Ben down to help me carry stuff up. I was grateful. He was the kind of guy you could hardly believe was real. I was glad Angela had found him.

The cab driver pulled into their apartment complex on the opposite side of town from mine. It was considerably nicer than mine. Ben stood near the sidewalk, staring down at the display on his smart phone. He tapped furiously on the screen, and I feared the worst—that another murder had taken place.

I paid the driver and tipped him well. On the sidewalk, Ben stuffed his phone in the pocket of his cargo shorts and hurried out to help me. I didn't say anything, but I tried to ascertain what the serious set of his jaw meant. I handed him the garment bag and the bag containing my shoes while I took my bag of accessories, makeup, and the lily. I thanked the driver one last time before I shut the door behind me. I barely waited until the door was closed before I spoke.

"Is something wrong? Did something happen? You looked pretty serious as I pulled up. Did a story break?" I was hurrying to keep pace with him as he approached the door to the building.

He snickered. "Something's serious alright. A serious ass whooping. Ang and I were playing chess, and I'm screwed. I was googling chess strategy to see if there was any way I could win."

I was embarrassed. I felt the heat singeing my face. "Oh."

Ben punched in the code to get in the building on the keypad on the door. My building didn't have one of these, but it would be smart for sure. "Relax, Bells. Enjoy the night off," he replied, holding the door open for me.

"Yeah, I know." Ben was right. I dug into my bag and turned off my phone. The world could wait.

.:::::.

Angela and I caught up over shots of Irish Crème Liquor as we got ready. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching her put the final touches on her makeup. Angela's look was subtle and pixie-dust kissed. Her hair was in a high ballerina bun to go with her fuchsia pink tulle dress and mask.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror for a moment. I couldn't imagine my face all done up that way. All I could see was the faint pink scar across my orbital bone from when a perp busted my face last year.

Angela frosted her lips with an icy-pink gloss and nodded at her reflection, seemingly pleased. "Okay, you're up, Bells."

I rose from my seat on the tub and sat on the edge of the vanity between the twin sinks. The bottle of liquor sat on the far side of the bowl to my left, near where Angela had the curling irons plugged in. I grabbed the bottle, causing Angela to giggle.

"I promise, it won't be _that_ bad," she teased, grabbing my makeup case from the floor. The contents clattered around as she gently pawed through it and produced a small black compact of eye shadow. "This alright?"

I nodded. "If you think it looks okay with the navy?" I asked before taking a swig from the bottle. The taste on my tongue was smooth, but I liked the burn after I swallowed it. I shuddered with a smile.

"I think it'll look good. Pretty, smoky, ya know? It'll tie in nicely with your shoes and jewelry too."

Angela set to work using a soft brush to apply the silvery-grey makeup to my eyes. I'd never had anyone put makeup on me before. It tickled, and I fidgeted and blinked a lot. Ben checked in often and told us to let him know when we were five minutes away from being ready to leave. He said he'd wait until then to change because that's as long as it would take. Angela teased him that all our preparation would be worth it, and he'd apologize when he saw how gorgeous we looked when we were all dressed and ready. I couldn't help but wonder how their relationship worked. It seemed so smooth and effortless, but I knew it couldn't be that easy. Ben was a reporter, and it was his job to out a story. Angela was a scientist, and she waited weeks sometimes before having the right answer proven to her. The media and the police department had an interesting, codependent relationship that was occasionally at opposite ends of the spectrum, but Ang and Ben never let it get in the way.

I had always been preoccupied with death. It ruled my life. Losing my parents so early made me realize how precarious life was. I thought about the loss a lot, and I encountered it nearly every day at the workplace. I couldn't leave my cases in files at the office however. The people who died were always on my mind. They were mothers, brothers, sons, girlfriends, and they meant something to someone. I was always racking my brain to solve the crime that had taken their life too early. I kept pictures and notes on them, I called their families to keep up to date, I went to their memorial services, and I always tried to think outside the box to solve their murder. I couldn't help but think of death, and I couldn't help but be the tough girl either. Even as a kid, my dad always encouraged me to be strong. I didn't cry when I skinned my knee, and he and mom didn't gasp when I'd fall off my bike either. Instead they'd said "John Wayne, Bella!" to remind me to be tough and brave.

I had no idea how to relate to a man. In my experience they were freaked out by the fact that I spent so much time thinking of the dead and that I wasn't needy enough. I had always been self-sufficient and level-headed. Maybe I wasn't girly enough; I went fishing and whittled wood with Jacob, Rachel, and Rebecca. I played in tide-pools and wanted to ride a dirt bike for as long as I could remember. I wasn't grossed out by my vics. All of my relationships had been brief, and I craved a connection so badly that I made hasty decisions that came back to haunt me the next morning.

Angela had the same strength and passion, so how did she and Ben do it? Was there something special about her, him, or both of them? Was I lacking something?

"Relax your eyelids, Bella. You're squinting."

Angela's voice broke me out of my reverie. "Ang, how do you and Ben do it? How do you stay together? How do you guys give each other the professional respect you deserve and need, and how does he understand the morbidity of the job?"

Angela pulled the cap off the tube of liquid eyeliner with a pop and paused. "Well… wow…you've been thinking of that for a while, haven't you? No wonder you were so quiet."

"I'm sorry," I offered lamely, feeling a hint of embarrassing taint my cheeks. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but I am curious as to how you guys are so awesome."

She hadn't moved yet; she remained frozen in contemplation, her dark eyes had a far-away gaze. "I don't know," she began slowly, shaking her head and resuming her work. She bit the eyeliner cap and leaned in closer, holding the pen in front of my eyes. "Close," she instructed. "I hate to sound cliché and fated or whatever, but I really think I found the right guy, ya know? I mean, Ben just accepts me for who I am. We both know our jobs could easily ruin everything for us, but we've chosen each other first and foremost."

She stopped for another moment, and I cracked one eye open before she lined the lower eyelid. I took advantage of the silence to open my eyes and ask another question.

"But, how did you know he was the right one?"

I felt totally lame for asking this, like I should have been able to figure it out on my own, years ago.

Ang scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I _wanted_ to be myself around him. I wanted to tell him the most personal details of my life, my hopes, the really embarrassing stories from high school and college. I just knew I could trust him. He respected and accepted me for exactly who I am. I didn't _have_ to change for him, but there were things I wanted to do—like learning Asian cuisine, and he learned how to ski for me. I think meeting a new person can foster the change in you that you didn't realize you wanted or needed."

All my life I'd experienced change. All I wanted was some semblance of permanence. I wanted exactly what Angela had—someone who'd understand me and take me as I was.

"I'm happy to talk about this, but what prompted it, if I may ask. Is there someone?" Her eyes were wide and bright.

Was there someone? I wasn't sure. "I—I don't know. Maybe?" I closed my eyes again, not wanting to see her face as we discussed this. She took the hint and finished lining the other eye.

"That would be—awesome!" Her voice betrayed her excitement, and she squeaked a little. "Do I know this person? Is it someone at work?"

I didn't want to answer this question. Edward was Angela's former classmate, and I had pried into his family's personal life when I still suspected him of the crimes. If things didn't develop between us as I hoped they would, I didn't want Angela's pity either. And if I was being 100% honest with myself, I didn't want her to share anything negative about him.

"No, no one at work," I answered, skirting the first part of the question. "It's early—very early, and I have no idea where it's going, but I know my track record. Guys couldn't handle my job, couldn't handle the creep factor, and couldn't handle my devotion to solving cases. I'm preparing for the inevitable rejection, but I think I could really like this guy."

"Oh, Bella, Bella," Angela said as she finished lining the bottom eyelid. "Then they weren't the right guys. Maybe your time with them was to make you more comfortable with dating and with yourself. I don't know who this new guy is, but be up front with him. Tell him what's important to you and what you want. Don't settle for anyone. Now open your eyes and see how beautiful you are."

I opened my eyes and slid off the vanity. To say I was surprised when I turned around and saw my reflection was an understatement. My eyelids were dusted with a smoky plum near the lash line that faded into a charcoal grey at the crease, and finally the brow was sparkling with a diamond sheen. The eye was lined in indigo blue that matched my dress and next to my pale skin it made my usually dark eyes pop. Even I had to admit, it was beautiful.

"Wow," I admitted, unable to think of anything else to say. "Thanks."

Angela smiled. "Glad you like it. You're almost set."

After adding some deep red lipstain and some mascara, Angela got to work on my hair. "Anything in particular that you want to do?" she asked.

I snorted. I usually wore my hair in a ponytail. "No, you have free reign."

She pursed her lips and tapped her cheek as she thought momentarily. "Okay, I've got something. If you don't like it, speak up. Bend over at the waist."

I raised an eyebrow and shrugged, doing as she said. I trusted her, and I was pleased with the end result. She did an upside down French braid that started at the nape and finished at the crown. She added the rest of the hair in a ponytail, curled it, and pinned the curls to make the braid more visible. It was more than I was used to, but it still felt like me. I felt uncomfortable wearing the corsage on my dress or my wrist, so Angela bobby pinned it in my hair. I could smell the fragrant bloom every time I moved my head.

We both got dressed and discussed what options we had for jewelry. I decided not to wear a necklace, and I wore a silver diamond bracelet I'd been given by my college roommate's family when I graduated. Wanting to feel the protection and connection to my petrified wood cross, I looped the chain around my wrist too.

Dutifully, we gave Ben five minutes' notice as Angela and I stepped into our shoes and got our clutch purses ready. Angela and I did one last shot together before going downstairs with Ben, who was dressed in a tuxedo complete with a Venetian jester's mask.

My mask sat in my purse as we rode over and I nervously fidgeted and finally settled on rubbing my cross charm like a worry stone. I felt sick and nervous as we drove into the center of the city along the Genesee River to the convention center. Angela and Ben bopped and sang along with the music, but all I was thinking was that I'd catch a cab when we got to the convention center and go home.

Like a gentleman, Ben dropped us off at the door before parking the car. Perhaps sensing my fear, or seeing that my face was a little green, Angela grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as we waited for Ben.

"There's no reason to be nervous, Bells. This is just a party. We'll have dinner, a few drinks, dance a bit, and have _fun_. Put your mask on."

Fun, I could I remember that, right? I needed to let go of some of my anxiety. If there was a murder tonight, someone was on duty who could handle it. I would pick up the case on Monday. I couldn't prevent the crime. I was still nervous about seeing Edward tonight, however, and I couldn't tell Angela that. I sighed and tied the mask around my head. I was surprised to feel more comfortable in it. There was a sense of anonymity I didn't expect to find comfort in. I helped Angela tie hers as we giggled.

She held my hand until Ben came in, and we turned in our tickets, got our table assignments, and made our way to the ballroom where we could hear music playing. People streamed in all around us, all dressed in tuxes and gowns—all masked.

The ballroom was dimly lit by chandeliers, and framing the dance floor were bare tree branches painted black and lit with purple light. It cast an eerie shadow on the walls. White twinkle lights were draped from the ceiling with black tulle, and each table was adorned with a beautiful spray of peacock feathers and candle centerpieces. It was magical, mysterious, and sensual.

No one was dressed alike. Some took the costume very seriously and wore Victorian ball gowns and pompadours while others wore much more modern attire. Some wore full masks that were more appropriate for Halloween; others wore Venetian masks like Ben, or half-masks like me and Angela. Regardless, it was a beautiful spectacle.

We managed to find our table easily and sat down as a waiter brought trays of champagne. Tables filled quickly, some people introduced themselves to their neighbors while others whispered conspiratorially. Some smiles looked familiar, but in the dark you couldn't be sure if you were talking to someone you'd known half your life or just met.

A large group came in the doors all together and, although they were masked, I recognized the Cheshire cat grin and the shock of bronze hair immediately.

Edward was here.

* * *

_**Author's**_** Note:** Epic thanks to kisbydog08 and duskwater2153 for the beta.

Hi readers! I'm trying to be sweet so you're not too angry about the cliffhanger. The next chapter is written, but I've got to make sure I didn't leave any loopholes before I post. I'm hoping to update in just a couple weeks. Hang in there and be patient with me, yeah? Thank you for reading.

Did you ever go to a formal event? High school homecoming or prom? Has anyone ever been to a policeman's ball? Do you like getting all dolled up, or are you more like Bella and dressing up isn't your thing?


	14. Resistence is Futile

D'oh! Sorry it's been so long. A few notes to start with...

This chapter gives the story its **Mature** rating. If you opt not to read part of this chapter and want a quick summary- please drop me a note.

And I've promised a quick summary of last chapter's events- Last time in CCF: _Bella returns from Forks and has forgotten the Policeman's Ball that she RSVP'd to weeks before. She goes shopping with Angela, and the two girls get ready for the event together. Despite it being a masquerade, Bella spies a familiar face..._

* * *

Edward Cullen was here.

My heart drummed against my ribcage, and I held my breath in expectation. I was sure the music and the discussion continued around me, but I heard nothing except the erratic beating of my own telltale heart.

And, as though he heard it too, Edward turned and looked directly at me. His face was hidden behind a mask that looked like leather dragon wings, but I knew he was seeing only me. There was no mistaking the intensity of his eyes; they burned warm like the gold in an alchemist's pot. This was the first time I'd seen him since my crazy there-could-be-vampires-episode in Forks. He both looked everything and nothing like how I imagined a vampire. Vampires were suave and beautiful, but they didn't come out during the daylight, they had fangs, and they definitely wore capes. It didn't matter though, because vampires weren't real.

I thought I would hyperventilate, so I forced myself to look away just to catch a breath. I chanced a look at Angela and Ben to see if they noticed me freaking out like a teenage girl with a crush, but they appeared to be gazing around the room in awe. I swallowed and let out a nervous, broken breath. My neck felt hot, and yet I had goose bumps ripple over my skin. Summoning some strength or tempting fate, I looked over my right shoulder to see where he was sitting.

The family had purchased an entire table near the darkest corner of the room, furthest away from the dance floor. Edward was changing seats with his father, which gave him a clear view of my table.

I turned back around before he could catch me staring. Angela turned around at that moment too, the excitement making her eyes twinkle.

"I can't believe we're here! This is so much better than last year's!"

I just smiled and bit the corner of my nail. I was barely containing myself, and I knew if I said anything I was liable to break and spew forth a fountain of word vomit.

Angela scrunched up her face in a scowl. "Aren't you having fun?"

I worked on pulling my smile into a more natural one. "Sure, I just, ugh… need a drink."

I got up from my seat and let my eyes shift toward Edward's table. He instantly noticed my movement and watched me in earnest as I took the long way around the room toward the bar set up near the entrance. I wove between the tables, feeling his eyes upon me the entire way.

Once I got to the bar, I decided not to dick around; I got two drinks. I downed one flute of champagne immediately and handed the empty glass back the bartender who had his stupid cummerbund on upside down. I wasn't sure if he was impressed or disturbed that I slammed the drink.

By the time I meandered back to my table, still under observation, the vacant seats had been filled by some older folks. The ladies were squeezed into dresses that weren't fit for the 1980s, let alone now, and two of them had fur stoles wrapped around their necks. I was pretty sure that one of the men with them had on a velvet tuxedo.

Dinner got underway after the mayor and The Chief thanked everyone for coming. A huge buffet had been set up on the dance floor, but I wasn't sure I could eat. I ended up with a plate of hors d'oeuvres and fruit as opposed to the prime rib and twice-baked potatoes that I really wanted. I pushed things around on the plate and occasionally nibbled on pot stickers or pineapple in between glances over my shoulder at the Cullens' table. Each time I looked at him, Edward Cullen was looking at me. The corner of his mouth was always hitched up in that damn kissable smirk as if he knew when I'd be looking.

The giggling and chatter continued as the staff cleaned up the food. People wandered out to the silent auction set up in the hall to benefit the families of fallen officers, but I didn't leave my seat unless I was getting a drink. As soon as the DJs put some danceable tunes on, the dance floor was packed with people dirty dancing, Voguing, and doing the YMCA. Edward's sisters were dancing too—way better than anyone else—but Edward and his parents were deep in conversation. I glanced over once and turned away, embarrassed to be caught looking yet again.

"Feeling okay?" Angela asked, resting her hand on my back. "You're looking a little flushed, and you didn't eat much at dinner."

I blushed in earnest now. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just nerves I guess. I think I need a refill on my drink."

I made to reach for my empty glass, but Angela popped out of her chair and grabbed the flute. "I'll get it. I need another one too. Coming?" she asked, turning toward Ben.

He tipped his head back and drained the rest of his beer from a tall pilsner glass before answering. "Yeah. The owner of the newspaper is over there. We should say hello."

Angela turned and looked over her shoulder to see the line at the bar before turning back to me. "You'll be alright?"

I nodded, though I internally questioned if I would be okay. "Go. You have every right to enjoy yourselves. You don't need to babysit me, I'll be fine."

I followed her with my gaze as she and Ben walked arm in arm toward the bar. It was really just a desperate chance to turn and gawk around the room. Edward was not at his family's table any longer. I spun around to look for him on the dance floor, but he wasn't there either.

Had he left already?

I was so full of nerves and anticipation that I didn't stop to think he might only be here for dinner. I felt a sharp sting of disappointment. I wondered if it was too early to call a cab, take off my mask, and go home. Before I could dwell on my melancholy too long, goose bumps rippled over my skin. I could see _his_ shadow darken the table a split second before I felt his cold breath near my ear.

"That lily pales in comparison to _your_ beauty and scent. You are stunning, detective."

I gasped and felt my spine stiffen. I could feel his breath flutter over the skin where my neck met my shoulder.

The movement of his hand gesturing toward the chair caught my attention. "May I?" he whispered, making the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I shuddered, causing him to chuckle softly.

I couldn't speak, so I merely nodded.

He moved smoothly to take the chair and eased into it. Though his face was still partially hidden behind the black leather mask, his eyes were alight.

"I know you asked for space," he said, his knee touching mind under the table, "but I couldn't stay away any longer. I'd say that I'm sorry, but I'm not. I'm helpless."

I sat frozen. I couldn't help myself any more either. His hand rested on the tabletop near mine and, in a moment of supreme vulnerability, I stretched out my little finger and rested it atop his hand. "I don't need any more space."

My hushed oath seemed to hang in the air between us for an infinite amount of time before anything transpired. The mask gave me a confidence I didn't know I had. I waited expectantly, looking at his face as it went through a myriad of emotions. The words seemed to have sunk in, but he closed his eyes as he pressed his lips together. He seemed to be at war with himself, why, I didn't know: guilt, fear, regret?

I felt the sharp sting of rejection and the abject embarrassment that plagued me yet again. Just as I made to pull my hand away, Edward turned his wrist over and hooked his little finger around mine.

He leaned in closer. "Come dance with me." His voice was whisper-soft but intense with purpose. It wasn't a request.

I wasn't sure what surprised me more—the words or the deed. I just sat there, mouth agape, listening to the thundering of my own heart. He rose from the chair, and I shuddered as he extended his hand for mine. My eyes darted between his gaze and the waiting offer. He'd said nothing about my confession, but he smiled with that Cheshire Cat grin and waited as though he knew I'd say yes.

As though I were on auto pilot and without a care that I was in a room full of strangers, I put my hand in his, and rose to meet him. He led us toward the dance floor, and I felt the smooth slip of his fingers as they dovetailed between mine. My heart fluttered when he looked back over his shoulder and smirked.

I didn't know the song, but the dance floor was packed with people of all ages swaying along with the music. It sounded old school. Like something my Gran would have listened to.

My heart palpitated while he led us to the darkest corner of the dance floor, away from the most prying eyes. He spun me in a little pirouette, carving out our own little niche on the black and white checkered floor. He turned me into his arms, and when my body met his, it took my breath away. I blushed and looked down, feeling terribly insecure in the moment. His hand rested under my chin, and he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. He looked down at me through the flashing purple and white light and our eyes locked. My breath caught in my chest painfully, but I could not bear to look way. My breasts were pressed to his chest and my left hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep. Neither of us looked away until I began to feel dizzy from the intensity of the wordless exchange, and my knees buckled. His grin only widened as he held me up, and I was done for. I was dazzled.

"I don't know how to dance," I blurted out, trying to remember how to breathe. If I passed out here, it would be mortifying.

"You'll be fine, Bella. Feel the music, and let me lead."

I exhaled and began to sway with Edward and the music. When I had the rhythm down, Edward instructed me to take two steps backward and two to the side. "What is this? The waltz or something?" I questioned as I repeated the phrase 'Slow, slow, quick, quick,' over and over in my head.

He smiled. "Or something. It's the foxtrot."

I tried to concentrate, but the question that had been weighing on my mind since the lily arrived finally crept out.

"How did you know I would be here?"

It was hard to concentrate while in his arms. It was hard to remember there were other people around us. Between the light refracting off the disco ball and the dancing, I felt like I was in my own version of a snow globe.

"Lucky guess?" This time it was a question, not a statement. His earlier bravado was gone. "Maybe I'm a mind reader. Or maybe I just assumed it, since you work for the department."

Okay, maybe that was a safe assumption. He didn't know I had two left feet, no social graces, and mild agoraphobia.

"Are you very mad? I didn't mean to presume anything, nor did I mean to scare you. I just thought a beautiful woman deserved something beautiful."

Faltering in my step, I tread on his foot. "N-no, I'm not mad. I'm flattered. Thank you." How could I _not_ be? I got back in the rhythm of the dance and realized I had something I should apologize for too. "I'm sorry I didn't text you back last week. I was on vacation, and for my own sanity I didn't even have my phone on. I…um…didn't mean to worry you, but I was grateful someone cared."

"I was genuinely concerned, Bella. Truly. I didn't expect you to check in or let me know where you were, but there's a murderer on the loose, you know. I was so worried I almost approached Angela, but I didn't think that was a good idea—since I'm pretty sure I was on the suspect list for a while."

He didn't sound angry, and I'm not sure I wouldn't have been in the same situation. If possible, it sounded like he even could understand and forgive me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and felt the shame creep in yet again. I had based every suspicion on our first exchange, and it wasn't fair. "But not anymore," I whispered, leaning in close, resting my head on his chest.

He sighed deeply and began singing along with the music. Lovely, don't you ever change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it?  
Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight."

Was he merely singing along with the lyrics? I had to put the thought out of my head before I did something rash. I was good at that. He seemed so cool and collected, and I was a mess of butterflies inside.

"So where'd you go?" He asked as another song played that I didn't recognize. "Not someplace warm, I'm guessing," he teased, reaching up to touch my pale, bare shoulder.

I shivered, but gave him a half-smile. "No, I went home to Washington. I needed some closure and time to think."

The vampire question came roaring back. I thought of the man who brutally and mercilessly murdered my father. He was sick and did not blend in to modern society. The man whose arms were around me now wasn't callous or uncaring. He was something else entirely.

"And did you find closure?"

I nodded. "I need to accept some things and let go of others."

We finished out the dance, and I was hesitant to let go. A fast-paced hip-hop song was playing now, and I couldn't imagine Edward dancing to it. I smiled at the thought as I let my hand slide down his arm. I clutched at his elbow, unwilling to let go.

Maybe he picked up on my hint, or maybe he felt the same way, but he was brave enough to voice it. "Walk with me?"

I nodded eagerly and left my hand on his arm as he led us away from the dance floor. I looked for Angela while we passed through the room, content to avoid her for the time being. I didn't know how I would explain myself. Thankfully, I didn't see her or Ben in the ballroom.

Outside the hall was a large patio that overlooked the Genesee River. A couple was out there smoking, but otherwise, the stone balcony was empty, though we would always be in view of the party-goers. Like a gentleman, Edward held the door and, when we stepped outside, I shivered. The October air was cool, and the sky was smeared with a thin layer of grey clouds.

When Edward saw the shiver ripple through me, he shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket without a moment's pause and held it out for me to slip into.

The satin lining of the jacket was cool as it slipped over my skin like a lover's caress; the intimacy of the gesture was not lost on me. I turned my face into the lapel where a sweet smell clung to the fabric. I'd tried before to place the fragrance, it wasn't honeysuckle; instead it smelled like a meadow on a spring day. The scent made me lightheaded, and I could feel my body reacting in really embarrassing ways.

"I just thought we could use some space," he began, indicating a marble bench furthest away from the smokers. He took off his mask, and I followed suit, feeling unmasked in more ways than one when his golden eyes met mine. "I just got you back. I'm not ready to let you go yet."

My face was aflame again. His reply put some of my worries to rest. I had very little doubt that he simply thought of me as a friend or an acquaintance now, but I felt the familiar nervousness of meeting someone new and the pressure to impress them while still being yourself.

I wasn't good at being myself.

Forcing a smile as I tried to get my heart under control, I sat down on the marble bench. "Me either. What brings your family here tonight?" I asked, desperate to establish some normal conversation I felt comfortable participating in.

He smiled somewhat grimly and took the seat next to me. There were several inches between us, but I could feel the tension filling the space, creating its own seductive energy, drawing me nearer to him. "Supporting the Police Department is a cause near and dear to all of us. We've all lost someone precious to us."

I vaguely remembered the night at 'The Dive' and hearing him say that his parents had died many years ago. I assumed that's who he was talking about now, and I couldn't bear to force him to expound on it. I hated the pressure of talking about losing my mom and dad, and I didn't want to compel him to talk about it anymore if it was uncomfortable. Angela told me the Cullens were adopted, so it was only natural to think they'd suffered a loss of family too.

"I'm sorry for your losses. I think it's really wonderful you're supporting the department though." I swallowed, debating my next line. "I've never been here. I should have come before tonight though. My dad was a cop." I shrunk into the jacket a little deeper and took a deep breath as I looked down.

He moved a little closer, causing me to look up. "Trust me, Bella, if you had been here before, I would have known." His eyes flickered down to my leg exposed by the slit in my dress before he continued on. "I think it's touching that you were so inspired by your father. In addition to your beauty, you're brave."

Was I beautiful or brave? I didn't think so. I became a cop to ensure others wouldn't feel the way I did at the boat launch that day. I wanted to be able to give people the answers I didn't receive. I felt far away suddenly, but a gentle tug on my hand alerted me to the fact that he was speaking.

"Tell me about Washington—you don't have to tell me anything personal if you're not ready. I know it can be painful sometimes. What is it like where you grew up? Where was your favorite place that you lived?"

I started to describe Forks. I talked about the rain and the forests. I told him about the Blacks and that I'd seen Billy while I was there. In turn, he told me about Chicago and going to White Sox games and trying to skip out of his piano lessons.

I don't know how long we sat together, exchanging tit for tat. He'd ask my favorite book or if I remembered my college fight song. I asked him about having so many siblings and if he'd ever met anyone famous. He kept managing to come up with interesting questions and was engaged in the conversation. Sometimes they were deeply personal, like when he asked if I had any strong religious beliefs, but sometimes they were more superficial too. He didn't care that red was my favorite color, but _why_ it was my favorite and what that said about me. He asked about my hobbies and if I'd had any pets. We discovered we both liked running and superhero movies. We both liked the quiet and tended to be too serious sometimes. We both liked baseball too. I supported the Detroit Tigers and he cheered for the Chicago White Sox. I couldn't recall a time when I'd shared more about myself with anyone, or when I'd laughed or smiled so much. With each revelation we seemed to move closer to one another. My foot occasionally nudged his leg or his hand brushed mine, causing nervous laughter and apologies. I was _that_ girl who made doe eyes and giggled at funny things that a boy said for the first time in my life. I was coy. I bit my lip. I blushed.

His own smile was genuine, and he was even more beautiful when it graced his face. I loved watching him laugh. The light caught the multi-faceted flecks of color in his eyes making them look almost illuminated or reflective, like an animal's. It was fascinating. I put the vampire idea to rest. I promised myself I wouldn't think of it again.

We'd huddled closer as we talked, our shoulders and hips touching. Our voices got low, hushed. His voice was smooth and velvety. I was wrapped in his coat, but I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in arms. "What about the future?" he asked suddenly, contrasting the lighthearted tone we'd enjoyed thus far. "Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

I didn't answer right away because I honestly didn't know. My job was dangerous, and I always knew that one day I might not come home. I had prepared myself for that a long time ago, and I lived for each day. My goal had always been to close my dad's cold case. I didn't know what I'd do if I ever solved it or if I had to let it go.

He seemed to be waiting anxiously for my reply. He leaned forward, waiting for my answer. "I-I don't know. I never thought about tomorrow, only today. I guess I'd just take life as it came along. I learned to adapt to change."

He said nothing, only continued to look at me intently, his eyes seeming to darken by the moment. He swallowed tightly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, putting some distance between us. "We should go back inside. You're shivering."

It was true, but I felt rejected all over again. It was like we'd taken two steps back. "Oh—w-well, okay then," I stammered, watching him put his mask back on. He stood up and waited for me to collect myself. My hands shook as I put my own mask back on, both literally and metaphorically. Tough Bella was back, the Bella who didn't let her guard down.

I slipped out of his tux jacket and handed it back to him; I already missed the sweet scent. He put the jacket on and inhaled deeply. I took it as a sign of frustration and impatience. I smoothed down my hair after putting my mask back on and we entered the convention center once again.

Dr. Cullen lingered inside the door, his own mask tucked into his breast pocket on his jacket. He made eye contact with Edward, but the two didn't say anything for some time. "We hadn't seen you for a while, just making sure everything is all right."

The doctor's voice sounded light enough and curious, but his expression was serious. His gold eyes looked intense, and I was perplexed how Edward and the doctor could look so alike and so different.

The doctor looked at me and forced a polite smile. "Good evening, detective. I trust you're having a pleasant evening?"

I wanted to show Edward, show _myself_, that I could be strong, that I wouldn't hang on his every word, even if I felt rejected and devastated inside.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen. I'm fine, thank you. On behalf of the department, thank you for your support this evening. Would you excuse me please?"

I left the two of them standing there and slipped back into ballroom without a second glance. My bravado was false, but I didn't care. A drink was sounding awfully good. Tapping my toes on the floor while I waited in line for a cocktail, I tried to think of anything but how desperately I wanted his hands on me; the feeling was palpable. There was a tightness in my abdomen and my nipples were hard. My fingers curled under, and my nails dug into my palms leaving concave divots.

I got two more glasses of champagne and drank one on the return trip to my seat. I set the empty glass on someone else's table along the way. Angela and Ben were back and talking animatedly to a couple I didn't know. I slumped in my seat and fumed silently, trying to give them their space.

"There you are!" Angela shrieked, spinning around in her chair. "I thought you'd left! Where have you been?"

Where have I been indeed? I didn't know what to say. "Eh, just outside, wasting time, I guess. I'm sorry to just bail on you, I got distracted."

She frowned. "Are you okay?"

Glancing over my shoulder at the Cullen table, I looked to see if Edward or the doctor had returned. The doc's wife was there with Edward's siblings. They were all looking my way unabashedly.

Waving her off, I tried to smile. "I'll be fine," I answered, wanting to mean it.

She nodded but looked skeptical. "Okay. Ben promised me a slow dance or two, and then we're heading home. Deal?"

I patted her knee. "Don't worry, I'll catch a cab. It'll be easier."

Angela's eyebrows raised behind her mask. "Are you sure? It's no trouble."

"It's fine," I answered, taking a greedy sip from my second glass of champagne.

We sat in silence until the DJ played a slow song that I heard every morning on the radio on the drive into work. Angela and Ben stepped out on the dance floor for a last spin around the room. I wasn't alone a minute before Edward was at my side again.

My nail tapped along to the rhythm of the music, making a tinkling sound on the crystal glass. His fingers closed around my wrist, cool and intimate. His thumb brushed over my skin and the silver bracelet with the petrified wood cross. His gazed darted between the charm on my wrist and my own eyes even as he continued to caress the skin with his fingertip. I bit my lip as I tried to fight off the visceral reaction to his touch. I wanted to _want_ to recoil, but I couldn't. I briefly wondered if he could feel my pulse throbbing.

He gave my wrist a gentle pull away from the half empty glass, and I rose, following the pull of his momentum. I couldn't stop myself from following along blindly as he led me to the dance floor.

He turned me into his arms once again and held me in a much more intimate embrace than before. My breasts were crushed to his chest, and I could feel his hips pressed to my abdomen. The side of his face rested against mine, and I could feel his nose nuzzling the lily blossom in my hair. He inhaled, and the sharp hiss of breath caused me to shudder, my nipples hardening with pleasure.

As our weight shifted back and forth in tempo with the music, our bodies brushed together in titillating ways.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, sliding his left hand from my ribcage to the small of my back. The way his fingers drifted over the material of my dress made my heart leap up to my throat and beat erratically. I froze temporarily, surprised. "I know I can appear terribly bi-polar sometimes, but all of this is new for me. I'm trying, and I'm pleading for your patience."

I closed my eyes and leaned into his shoulder. I would have probably given him anything in that moment, but he didn't need to know that. "Shh," I breathed.

I didn't want to hear anything he had to say right now. His arms were strong and secure. I could feel the shape of his body beneath his clothes: the rise of his bicep beneath my hand and his firm pecs beneath my head. I couldn't even contemplate our hips pressed together at this very minute. I kept my eyes closed and simply _felt_ him all around me.

Could I handle his manic tendencies? I was getting to know him better, and I liked what I knew. We had similarities, but unique differences too. I wanted to know why I couldn't stop thinking of him. I had to figure out if his attributes outweighed his oddities—if he was worth it.

I felt him stiffen around me a split second before I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I knew it wasn't Edward's tentative touch. Edward fingers lingered at my hip even as I turned and faced a very surprised-looking Angela. Was he staking a claim, or was this just another personality flop?

Even from behind her mask, I could see her eyebrows were raised, and her eyes were wide. "Bella?"

"Um… hi," I replied nervously, not sure if Edward and Angela would recognize each other with their masks on and what my only friend might say.

Her mouth was slightly agape as she stared up at Edward, ignoring me completely. "I—uh—just wanted to tell you we're leaving and ask if you, um, needed a ride?"

Before I could answer, Edward interrupted, pressing his lips against my right ear. "Excuse me for a minute, won't you?"

The vibration of his lips on my ear and his cool breath flirting with my skin made my knees weak and my insides quiver. I squeezed my legs together when I felt myself begin to get aroused. It was the most intimate touch we'd shared. It was sweet and frustrating. I wanted to turn toward him and seek his lips out with mine.

His fingertip traced a figure eight on my hip before hurrying over to where his family was getting ready to leave.

I watched him for several moments before Angela interrupted. "Bella, is everything okay?"

My eyes refocused on her and Ben standing before me. "Um, yes?" Did I need a ride home? I didn't know. I was hoping Edward would offer me a ride. I wasn't ready for the night to be over. "No, I'm okay. I'll get a ride or a cab."

She turned to glance over her shoulder, presumably to see where Edward had gone, but Ben was behind her. "Who was that, Bella?" She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, scrutinizing me. "Was that… your mystery man?"

My fingers knotted around one another, and my eyes fell to the floor. "It's early," I said by way of explanation, echoing my earlier remarks about the state of my relationship with Edward.

Angela took my hands in hers. "Don't worry, I won't push. You'll tell me when you're ready."

Nodding my thanks, I signed with relief.

"But," she began, a little smile hitching up at the corner of her lips, "let me say, you looked happy. Intense but happy."

If I _looked_ intense, she couldn't imagine how I was _feeling_. I didn't know what to say, my face just flamed scarlet.

"It's okay," Angela offered, giving my hand a squeeze. "Be safe. Be happy."

I returned the affectionate gesture and nodded back. She leaned in and kissed my cheek. Our masks bumped one another's, and we laughed good-naturedly, breaking the tension I felt. "Bye, call me tomorrow, yeah?" She waited expectantly for my reply.

"Okay. Later guys."

Ben winked and they disappeared back into the crowd.

My eyes instantly sought out Edward, and I found him lingering at the edge of the dance floor, a smirk playing at his lips. The light caught his eyes and made him look…hungry.

I couldn't resist the urge to play. Just a little. Keeping my eyes on him, I meandered through the throng of bodies on the dance floor, not taking the most direct route. He watched me intently, like a lion watching a gazelle at the back of the herd. His eyes were focused, observing and even anticipating my every move. The Cheshire cat grin on his face let me know he enjoyed the game too.

When I approached, he reached out for me and turned me around in a little pirouette. I giggled, but as I spun back around to face him, I could see his face was intense and serious. He didn't waste any time in asking me the question I'd been waiting for. "Can I offer you a ride home?"

My pulse raced, and I knew that something was about to change between me and Edward. I had suspected him of a silly identity and an even worse fate, but now I was going to put my faith in him. Would I invite him up to my apartment? Would he accept? What would happen? What did I want to happen now? I didn't care if it was a goodnight kiss at the door, but I wanted _more_.

"Yes please," I breathed, staring up at his eyes, almost dazed.

"And you're ready now?" he asked, the smile threatening to return again.

I could only nod, and he made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the doors, indicating that I should lead the way out.

I returned to the table to retrieve my little clutch. I could _feel_ his presence behind me, but I bit my lip and looked over my shoulder, wanting to know he was there.

His hand lingered on the small of my back as we made our way through the crowded room. I felt like all eyes were on us, and I was thankful for the mask that partially concealed me. He put a little distance between us when we stepped out into the hall. He removed his hand from the center of my back, and I missed it instantly. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his cell and sent a quick text. He didn't look up but explained it away with a one word answer, "Driver."

_Driver_? Didn't he mean valet?

At the end of the long hallway, we stood at the glass façade of the building overlooking the street as we waited for the car. The street outside was ill-lighted, and it let me see our reflection in the glass windows. I still wasn't used to seeing myself dressed this way, but I couldn't deny that I looked pretty. And Edward, Edward was just dazzling. His black tux blended into the darkness outside, and the dragon wing mask hid most of his face, but his eyes were brilliant and shining. I continued to watch our idle reflections, concocting stories in my mind for the beautiful but distant couple. Was this the end? Would they try? Did they mean anything to one another?

I was startled when Edward's reflection moved suddenly, seemingly too quickly, and came to stand in front of me. We looked at each other for a long moment, and I watched each flutter of his eyelashes wishing he would close the distance between us. Unable to take the tension anymore, I finally looked down. Was I throwing myself at an unwilling participant in this strange relationship?

His smooth, cool fingers lifted my chin and stroked my jaw line all the way to my ear. He nudged the dangly chandelier earring in my ear and smiled before tracing the same path back down. He took a deep breath and swallowed before letting his thumb stray toward my lips. He swept the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, and I couldn't help but close my eyes and lean into his touch. His cool breath was intoxicating and mere inches from mine. I prayed to any god that would listen, begging for him to just close the distance between us.

He inhaled sharply and turned away to look over his shoulder. "The car is here."

_Fuck,_ I swore under my breath, letting my head droop again.

He walked toward the door, pushing it open as the valet approached and the two of them spoke. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for more unresolved sexual tension on the ride home and made to join him. I looked out, expecting to see the Volvo he'd supposedly bought not long ago, but I was floored to see a black limousine under the faint orange lights of the carport. He wasn't mistaken when he said "Driver." He meant it. Who rode around in a limo?

The chauffeur opened the back door to the car, and I felt awkward as I stepped outside the building to join Edward. Leaning around his shoulder, I peeked inside unsure if we would be alone or the entire Cullen clan would be joining us. Seeing no one, but getting a strange glance from Edward, I grabbed the sides of my dress near the seam and hiked it up a little as I climbed inside the car.

There was a short lounge seat at the rear of the vehicle and a long bench along entire side. I gracelessly slid across the shorter seat and sat on the long divan, sinking in to the sumptuous leather. Edward joined me in the car, sitting in the middle of the shorter lounge seat. His eyes were instantly drawn to my legs and the slightly inappropriate amount of skin I was showing after failing to readjust my dress into a more proper position. He licked his lips in the first real sign of any kind of sexual response to me.

The door closed, and we were sealed in the confined space of the chic car. I tried to modestly re-situate my dress as the driver settled up front. It was only a few moments before the car lurched forward, and I gave up trying to shimmy my dress down. Edward continued to stare unabashedly at my bare legs; his eyes burned and his chest billowed.

Something happened inside me. Despite asking me to be patient and understanding, Edward was finally responding to me after all this time. Watching his chest rise and fall, seeing his eyes smolder with intensity did something inside me. All I could think was that if I didn't kiss him, I would burst. In a split second, I made a decision. As the car turned a corner, I launched myself across the seat, falling into Edward's lap. I straddled his thighs and wrapped my arms around his neck. Without a pause, without waiting for an invitation, without waiting for a response, I kissed him.

His lips were firm and indifferent, and his body was frozen in place. I waited for him to counter, wanting, anticipating for him to part my lips with his tongue. He didn't. Shame and embarrassment consumed me. He didn't want this. He didn't want _me_. I had to find the strength to walk away.

I let one of my hands fall, smoothing over the lapel of his jacket, and I pulled away, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. As my breath filled the space between us, something else started to happen. Edward's chest started to heave again and his body seemed to shake. I lifted my gaze to ensure he was alright, but I wasn't sure. His eyes were closed and a tremble began to roll through his body. It started first as a slight vibration, but he soon began to shudder more violently. His eyes were closed tight, his lips were pressed even tighter together, and his head shook back and forth slowly.

I was startled, and placed my hands on his chest, letting my fingers sink into the fabric of his shirt. "Edward?" I asked, futilely trying to pull him closer. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I definitely didn't expect his reaction.

His hands fastened around my hips like claws, and for a split second I thought he might push me away, but then his lips crashed to mine. Instead of firm and immoveable, they were solid and very eager. It took me a moment to get over my shock, but I could only respond in kind. In a heartbeat, my hands crawled to his lapels, and I pulled myself closer, letting my chest press against his. His breathing was ragged as his lips kissed a path from my mouth to my ear.

"Bella, I tried _so_ hard to resist you," he hissed against my ear before his tongue traced my earlobe causing me to shiver.

"Please, don't," I pleaded as Edward's mouth moved from my ear to my neck, his tongue gently caressing the pulse point there. I couldn't help but groan and grind my hips into the obvious erection pressing against me.

In my lust-filled haze I thought it was too bold, too forward, but the sound that emanated from Edward could only be described as a growl, and he eagerly replied back with a thrust of his own. I whimpered and let my fingers crawl over his shoulders to the hair brushing his collar. I threaded my fingers through the brassy locks and tugged his head back, exposing his throat. I took control of the kiss, nipping my way down the length of his jaw line to his Adam's apple. I left an open-mouthed kiss on the skin there as my fingers fumbled to untie his bowtie. The silk slipped through my fingers, but I wasn't content to stop there. My hands itched to tear the little buttons off his white dress shirt. I managed to slip two of the catches from the holes before his hands captured mine and he secured them behind my back.

"Bella, what are we doing?" Edward asked suddenly, gasping for breath, planting feather-soft kisses along the edge of my mask across my cheekbone.

"Giving in," I whined, pressing my breasts more firmly against his chest. My nipples were sensitive, taut peaks. I leaned forward, rubbing my chest against his in an attempt to stimulate myself. I continued to feel the bulge in Edward's pants beneath my lap. "Please. I've wanted to give in for so long. Don't deny me."

I struggled to worm my hand free of his grasp as his cool breath continued to flutter over my skin.

One hand eventually slipped from his hold, and I reached up to push the mask away from his face, revealing golden eyes. As I sat, waiting, he mimicked the action, gently lifting my mask and exposing my own face. We looked at one another for the space of several heartbeats, catching our breath and, if I was honest with myself, I was looking in his eyes and gauging my chances.

His eyes were teeming with intensity and honesty, and he didn't look away. His gaze was locked on mine in the same way someone tries to gain the trust of a skittish animal. For the evening I'd considered myself the predator and him the prey, but now I wasn't sure.

His thumb stroked my cheekbone and he smiled sadly. "I don't think I could resist you at this point. You're very powerful, Detective." He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to the place where his thumb had been only moments before.

The rush was gone from our next kiss. The all-consuming intensity was replaced with something tender and smoldering. His hands began to wander, sliding across the silky fabric of my dress. It gave me chills as he drew me closer and grinded against me. My body arched and curved to his in serpentine movements, bending to his will, seeking out each languid pass of his lips.

I was so caught up in the slow simmer, the gentle rocking of our bodies against one another's, that I didn't feel the car come to a stop in front of my apartment.

An intercom crackled to life and broke into our intimate bubble causing me to just about jump out of my own skin. I was glad he didn't lower the partition between us.

"Mr. Cullen, we've arrived at your first location, sir."

I felt Edward shift under me as he sat up straighter. I looked out the tinted windows at the familiar setting—lonely and dull. Even if nothing more came from tonight, I did not want to go upstairs alone; not to the apartment next door to where poor Morgan lived. The thought of being by myself, of being without him, was painful now.

Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, and I felt his entire body slump back against the seat as he sighed. I grabbed the two loose ends of the bowtie dangling around his neck and pulled myself closer, resting my head on his shoulder and letting my face settle in the crook of his neck. I breathed in the sweet scent of him with a soft hum.

"Please come up?" I asked in a whisper, my lips brushing against the smooth expanse of his neck as I spoke. I kissed the column of his throat and felt what could only be described as a purr in response. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," I began, intending on saying more before he chuckled.

His hands ran down my spine and settled on my hips again. "I should think my intent quite obvious, Detective, and as I said, I don't think I could tell you no."

He reached up and pressed a button on the ceiling panel. "Thank you. There will only be the one stop this evening," he told the driver. "There's no need to get out, I can get the door."

I sprang into action, climbing off his lap as gracelessly as I fell into it and retrieved my purse, shoving my mask inside. Edward tucked his mask into his jacket pocket and exited the car, extending a hand in for mine. I slipped my hand into his and climbed out. It was much cooler now, and he shrugged his coat off as I fumbled through my clutch for my keys. He draped the jacket over my shoulders, and I was suddenly worried we'd once again lose the connection we'd only recently found. I cinched the clutch around my wrist and grasped his hand and began leading him toward the stairs as the limousine drove away.

Edward came willingly, but I wasn't sure what he was coming to do. Would he stay? As we rounded the landing, I hoped I remembered to tidy up before inviting someone in.

I tried to ignore Morgan's apartment when we reached the second floor. It was impossible. The garish yellow and black crime scene tape still crossed the door. I vaguely wondered if Edward remembered I'd told him about the fate of my neighbor. I didn't want it to be a damper on the evening, so I tried to shake it off.

Coming to stop at my door, I tried to push the key into the lock with a shaky hand. Edward came to stand flush behind me and took the keys from my hand. He slid the key home and turned his wrist, unlocking the door.

I turned to face him, taking advantage of being sandwiched between his body and the door. I leaned against the frame and grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He stepped in, slipped one of his knees between my legs, and drew the back of his hand down the side of my face. He spoke in a whisper.

"If this happens, it has to be on my terms. No questions."

I arched an eyebrow and looked up at him. I wasn't sure what he was hinting at. Something kinky?

He replied with his own raised brow as though daring me to accept the challenge he'd put forth. "Trust me," he issued, his voice suddenly solemn.

I _had_ to trust this man. I was bringing him into the most intimate space I had. A failure to have faith in him would be stupid on many levels—and if I couldn't summon that kind of certainty, then I needed to say goodnight.

I looked up in his eyes, searching for a reason to reject him, but he stared back, and all I could see was a desire for acceptance and a deep intensity.

"I trust you," I breathed, leaning up to kiss his neck.

Edward gently pushed the door open and settled his hands on my hips as he pushed me through the door. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops, pulling him with me and bit my lip, trying to be coy. We stopped inside the apartment just as the light timer clicked off and cast the room in indigo shadows. Once inside the dimly lit room, he spun me around and up against the door again, forcing it closed with a loud slam. I fumbled to lock the door, shutting the world outside.

"Put your arms above your head," he issued in a breathy voice.

I knew this was a test of my trust, and I obeyed the command, raising my arms, letting my fingertips find purchase on the edge of the door frame. He put one palm flat against the door just above my head and leaned in close, but he didn't kiss me.

"You've been driving me crazy all night," he hissed in my ear before nuzzling my neck and inhaling deeply.

I felt his other hand push aside the slit on my dress and settle on my thigh. I began to breathe rapidly when his hand slowly began climbing up my leg. His fingertips crept higher, raising the opening of my dress as he went. I bit my lip in an effort to contain the whimper that was threatening to escape when I felt contact against the leg of my lacey boyshorts. I wanted his hand to move toward my center, but instead his index finger dipped under the hem and slid toward the outside of my leg, curving over my hip toward my ass.

He stopped his movement suddenly and a breathy chuckle fluttered over my skin. "Breathe, Bella."

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath and exhaled. I felt my face flame with embarrassment, and I looked down to watch Edward's hand slide back down my leg.

"Sorry, it's, ugh, been a while," I admitted begrudgingly.

He slid his finger down the slope of my nose and tapped the end. "Me too," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Breathing a laugh of relief, I rested my head against his shoulder for a moment before he stepped away and put his hands in his pockets as he walked around the dimly-lit room.

The distance between us gave me a brief respite to get my body back under control. I couldn't remember a situation or a man who had ever caused me to get so caught up, to get so excited. With other men, even in college, my mind had pushed me into wanting the experience. My _mind_ wanted to satisfy the urge, the curiosity, the expectation. But now it was my whole body aching to gratify this new craving. Every part of me wanted him.

While I removed his jacket, I tried to breathe deeply, like I did on the range while shooting. I summoned all my training to relax and quiet my body, but one look at him out of the corner of my eyes sent my heart spiraling out of control again.

I laid his jacket over the back of the sofa and smoothed my hand over the fabric when I felt him step up behind me and mold his body to mine. His right hand slid over the curve of my hip and down over my abdomen as he kissed the back of my neck and began to slowly lower the zipper of my dress.

Reaching up behind me, I rested my hand on the nape of his neck, letting my nails gently graze his skin there. He did the purring thing again, and his hand slipped inside my dress, smoothing across my back and curving around my ribcage. I arched my chest, hoping to direct his hand where I wanted it, but his fingers teased the edge of my bra.

I stepped away, forcing him to withdraw his touch. I took his hand, warmed by my skin and slowly began backing further into the room, bringing him with me. "So cold," I said as I led him down the hall to my bedroom. It wasn't the first time I had noticed it.

"Poor circulation. I'm so sorry," he said with sincerity, and I was afraid I'd ruined the mood.

Raising our joined hands to my lips, I bit the tip of his index finger. "Don't apologize for being you. I just wondered if there was something I could do to help."

He made a noise between a chuckle and a growl and pulled me closer. "I'm sure you can warm me up."

I bit my lip and smiled. I had been considering turning the heat up, but I liked Edward's idea better. When we entered the room, I let go of his hand and moved to stand at the vanity near the foot of my bed.

The light was different here; the waxing gibbous moon was growing and full of promise outside my bedroom window. I used the moonlight to remove the pins from my updo and unbraided my hair before shaking it out. Edward lingered against the door frame, watching. Catching his eye, I lowered the one strap of my dress, and he joined me in three long strides. The dress was being held up by the subtle rise of my breasts and nothing more. As soon as his hands grasped the bodice of the dress, the garment slid down and pooled at my feet.

I was nearly naked in more ways than one. I felt exposed and vulnerable. I'd never wanted a man to want me this much. His eyes seemed to travel down the length of my body as quickly as the dress fell—almost too fast—but they returned to the two places where my tattoos played peek-a-boo with my lingerie.

He licked his lips. "Jesus," he whispered under his breath. "You're stunning."

I smiled. No one had ever told me that in my life, and he told me twice tonight. "Thank you. The tattoos, do they bother you?"

He reached out hesitantly, giving me every opportunity to stop him and swiped his thumb over the slightly-raised skin as though testing if it was real.

"No, it most certainly doesn't bother me." I didn't have to look at him to hear the smirk in his voice.

Settling his hands on my waist, he helped me step out of the dress and guided me toward the bed where he sat at the end and patted his knee. "Let me see your foot."

Of all the things we'd said and done tonight, this made me the most nervous for some inexplicable reason. I swallowed and held onto his shoulder as I put my right foot on his lap.

One hand delicately wrapped around my ankle and the other began to unfasten the tiny buckle on my silver shoe. He slid my foot from the torture device and patted the opposite knee. We repeated the process with my left foot, and I sighed in contentment when both of my bare feet were planted on the soft carpet.

I wasted no time enjoying the comfort, however. I straddled Edward's lap and my fingers returned to the row of buttons on his shirt. When I had finally accomplished my task, I could only stare dumbfounded at the six pack abs he'd been hiding. I had no idea he was in _that_ kind of shape.

"What are you?" I said bluntly, letting my fingers trace over the deep grooves of his abdomen.

He froze. "What?"

I continued to stare in wonder and appreciation. "I'm serious. Who is Edward Cullen? Is he your alter ego? Are you really Superman or something?"

Blushing, I made myself look away and saw him smirk a little. "Superheroes, Bella? Really? What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?"

Leaning in close, I whispered in his ear, "I'll be honest," I began as my hand traveled down over the ridges on his stomach to the front of his pants, cupping his erection. "I've kinda got a thing for bad boys."

His eyes closed, and he groaned appreciatively, before pulling us back onto the bed. Hands palmed my ass, providing resistance as he thrust up against me. Our lips fused together, mine molding against his firm skin, and we kissed unhurriedly, even as his fingers were working on the closure of my bra. I pushed myself closer and licked the seam of his lips, seeking entrance_. Let me in_, I begged silently. His lips parted and his tongue pressed back against mine until he invaded my mouth. His taste was consuming, delicious, and I wanted more.

The clasp sprung free on my bra, but my chest pressed to his held the cups in place. I braced my hands against his chest and rose up, letting the garment fall.

He stared at my chest for a long moment before reaching up and drawing his index finger down between the valley of my breasts. His hands were gentle as they explored, and it felt amazing when he rolled my nipples between his fingers, but I wanted more. I wanted teeth and tongue. He licked his lips when my hands joined his in giving my breasts a squeeze.

I'd been patient enough, and I couldn't wait to get his pants off. I was slick with need, and I was squirming, desperate for friction. I climbed off his lap, kneeling on the bed next to him. "Scoot up," I said, my eyes darting between his and the obvious bulge in his pants.

He didn't delay, moving further up on the bed, taking off the white shirt before settling on the pillows and folding his arms beneath his head. I almost wished he would have left the shirt on. I had a weakness for guys in white button-ups.

I leaned forward and unfastened his belt and the closure on his pants before slowly lowering the zipper. He raised his hips off the bed as I peeled the pants down his legs and tossed them aside to join my dress on the floor. I paused to look at him, he was in his boxers and I was down to my lace boyshorts. There were just two flimsy barriers between us.

Returning to his waist, my fingers hooked under the hem of his boxers, slowly pulling them down, freeing his erection. I wished the light had been better so I could truly appreciate him.

I made to pull off my own panties when he sat up and grabbed my wrist. "I want to do that part."

He rose up to his knees and slipped his hands in the back of my boyshorts and slowly lowered the lace down, his hands smoothing over my ass as he went. The fabric joined the rest of the clothing on the floor.

Before I could urge him to lie back down, his fingers trailed over my hip tattoo again before wandering to my slit.

"Oh God," we both groaned as his fingers parted my sex and got lost in my heat.

I panted and fought the urge to ride his fingers. It felt good, too good, and I was too keyed up. I wanted him inside me. Summoning willpower, I pushed his shoulder, and he got the hint, chuckling, and laying down again.

I straddled his lap, my heart pounding, heat pooling in my cheeks, down my chest, and between my legs. I was trembling with need and I didn't want to wait anymore. Wantonly, I took the initiative and joined our bodies. His eyes were intense, mirroring the icy burning that I felt when he was sheathed inside me. Christ, I saw stars, heaven, I attained enlightenment all in that one act.

In that moment, with Edward buried inside me, his addicting, intoxicating smell all around me, it was the first time I'd felt as close to anyone in a long time. I refused to move, I couldn't. I merely basked in the sensation of being full of something besides loneliness. I couldn't help the pinprick of tears behind my eyes.

Edward sat up abruptly and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear before cradling my face in his hands. "Are you okay?" he breathed against the shell of my ear as his the pad of his thumb delicately traced my cheekbone.

No one had ever asked me if I was okay during sex, not even the first guy to take my virginity, but Edward did. He made me feel important, like he _cared_, like I _mattered_—and not just for tonight either.

I could only whimper my reply as I nodded. I felt hot, too hot, and cold at the same time while Edward panted against my neck with the effort of keeping still. I was terrified my body was about to short circuit in this fantastic moment. He lifted his hips slightly, pushing into me deeper, and it set my body into motion.

I pulled my hips away from his, feeling him withdraw slightly from my body. "God you feel so good," he groaned against the side of my neck, sweeping my hair over one shoulder. I couldn't wait anymore. I didn't want to be careful or tentative. I pushed him back against the mattress and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I leaned down over him, my breasts chafing against his chest with every roll of my hips.

He swore under his breath as he began to thrust inside me. His fingers trembled and his touch was hesitant, as if he was trying to be gentle while he caressed my thighs and let his fingers ghost over the arc of my hips. His eyes were closed, and his face was a mask of concentration.

We rocked against one another and I couldn't think straight anymore. The desire coiled inside me, winding me up. I was sure I was on fire, struck by lightning, something. My body was alive and excited. I wasn't sure who this version of me was. I wasn't the teenage girl trying to lose her virginity, and I wasn't the young woman trying to find acceptance at a college party. I was a woman experiencing true lust, I was able to be myself, I was able to give myself over to this man by choice with no ulterior motive. For this I would gladly give myself over to the flames smoldering and crackling inside me.

His hands eventually settled on my hips, guiding our pace. Sometimes the rhythm was slow and teasing, sometimes it was harder and faster. His grip was firm then, and he bit his lower lip. All of it helped push me over the edge.

"Oh, I'm—" I wove my fingers through my damp hair and my body shuddered as I let go, the coil unwinding rapidly. I let out a keening whimper, and felt Edward come inside me with a groan.

Breathless, I collapsed on his chest and closed my eyes. I felt his fingers, cool and light, as they trailed up and down my spine like he was playing a musical instrument.

I felt safe here in his embrace. Surrounded. Not empty. For so long I'd suppressed the way I felt about everything because in my world people didn't stick around for long, and I wanted to avoid the pity and the labels: the witness, the orphan, the weirdo. Here I was just Bella, and I couldn't help but wonder if he could desire me just the way I was.

His lips pressed against the top of my head, and I hummed appreciatively, unwilling to open my eyes. This felt too good. "S'good," I mumbled, nuzzling against his chest as his touch grazed the nape of my neck. I shuddered against him. "Cold," I admitted, burrowing into him closer. I was so tired, but despite his granite-like body beneath mine, he felt so good.

"Damn it, I'm sorry," he swore. "Let me—" he made to sit up, and I knew I was showing how needy I was, but I protested.

"No," I lamented. "Don't go."

I liked this place with him. I realized how foggy my brain was getting, and I was floating on the edge of unconsciousness, struggling to stay awake.

I didn't remember anything after that, but I felt warmer, and I realized some time must have passed. I was under the thick down of my comforter. I felt him solid beneath me and knew he was still here. I should have asked him if he wanted to stay but also offer him an out if he wanted to leave, but I couldn't. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to want to stay. I squeezed him a little, fighting the urge to open my eyes.

The last thing I heard was "Sleep, Bella," before he began to hum a sweet melody.

* * *

*hides* So... yeah... I hope that was decent, it's been forever since I've written anything lemony. Give me some love, yeah? Do you agree with Bella's decision? Is she moving too fast? Is her track record a concern?

Many, MANY thanks to **duskwater2153** for the beta. Thank you, dear.

I have a few song recs for this chapter. A couple are the songs Edward and Bella dance to, other just fit the mood and kept me company while writing: "Just the Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra, "They Can't Take That Away From Me" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, "Leisure Suite" by Feist, and "Come On Closer" by Jem.

I also have a photobucket album for this fic. The banner is there as well as Edward and Bella's masks, Bella's dress, the Cullen house, and some other things that inspire me.

Good news, the next chapter of this fic is written. I'm, obviously, getting to a point where I need to be careful and not paint myself into corners, so as soon as I get chapter 16 done, I'll post. I'm hoping that's within 2 weeks. Thank you all for your patience. Your words and reviews are so encouraging and wonderful. Thank you.


	15. The Mystery of Bella

*cue dramatic soap opera music* Last time on Cold Case File... Edward showed up at the Policeman's Ball and, after ramping up the sexual tension between them, finally gave in to his desires and went home with Bella.

* * *

**EPov**

I was just as fascinated with Bella when she slept as I was when she was awake.

She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after we made love, and I'd settled her in the bed and covered her up. I'd stood at the bedside for some time trying to decide if I should stay or leave when she mumbled aloud.

"No, please don't leave me."

I wasn't sure if she'd meant me or if she was having a nightmare, but then she'd said my name.

"Edward."

I was never so glad to hear those two syllables. Against my better judgment, I slipped under the comforter but kept the sheets and a blanket between us for her warmth and comfort. I was glad for the opportunity to crank the heat in the apartment while Bella had been taking off my jacket earlier in the evening.

Even as she slept, she sought out my body. A whine would catch in her throat, and she'd arch her body toward mine. Each time she'd try and wrap an arm around me or slip her leg between mine, the blanket would prevent her from getting closer. Taking pity on her, I stretched an arm across the bed and helped her settle next to my body and rest her head on my chest. I told myself it was for _her_ comfort, but that was a lie. It was for _my_ satisfaction too. A word rattled around in the back of my mind, a word I'd never used before.

_Mate_.

My first instinct was to deny it. To protect her—to protect myself—from what I was, but I admired her all night. I watched her eyes flutter under her eyelids, listened to her shallow breaths, and felt every beat of her heart against my own chest. Sometimes she'd whimper my name, and I knew I could not deny her.

I had kept the monster at bay, but I didn't know how. Carlisle had suggested hunting to the extreme, positively gorging myself to satiate the beast within. Perhaps it had worked—or maybe it was just extreme conscious effort and a realization that our eternities were inextricably linked. I tried to be careful, so careful, with Bella but I longed to kiss her deeper and taste her everywhere. I had precarious control and didn't want to get my teeth anywhere near her. I was playing with fire, and I knew it. I was lying to this woman about who—and what—I was. I wasn't sure what kind of future we could have—if any—but I could not keep my identity a secret if we were going to pursue any kind of relationship. I chuckled silently to myself. She asked if I was a superhero with an alter-ego. If she only knew who my second self really was she'd run screaming. Clark Kent didn't have it this hard when he told Lois Lane he was Superman.

The sun crested over the horizon, and I wasn't sure if I should leave or not. Would today seem different to her out from under the haze of alcohol and lust? Would she regret last night? Would the urge be satisfied? What did she want? What did _I _want?

If I was honest with myself, I wanted to stay. I wanted her to want _me_, to want _this_. Alice saw a future for me and Bella, and I wanted to trust that. The few experiences I'd had in the 1970s had convinced me it was more than the sex; it was the intimacy I craved. I truly wanted to know the depth and breadth of another soul—even if I didn't have one. I had never been so attracted to anyone—human or vampire—and I realized that there was nothing I wouldn't do for her. The silence of her mind drove me crazy and I never wanted to know anyone more completely. The not knowing made me want to try all the harder and be all the better for her as I unraveled little pieces in the mystery of Bella. I never cared to keep up the silly human charade my family had going, but I would gladly keep it up until I could tell Bella the truth about us.

The truth.

It seemed so oppressive and liberating all at the same time.

Just because Alice saw a future for us didn't mean it would come to pass. What would Bella do with the truth? Accept it? Pursue us criminally? I had never wanted to tell anyone before, but I had no idea what the right way to go about it would be.

Bella's heart rate started to increase, and she rolled away from me and over on her stomach. Her hip grazed my erection, and I fought back the urge to moan. She twitched and moved under the covers as her body tried to alert itself to the new day. Even though her back was to me, I knew the moment her eyes opened by the sharp intake of breath that alerted me to her consciousness. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, brushing up against my groin. She froze, mid-stretch, her conscious brain suddenly remembering she was not alone. She rolled over to face me and folded her hands under her head. Her eyelids were still heavy, and she suppressed a yawn.

She was still lovely.

"Hi," she whispered, her morning voice groggy. She licked her lips and smiled while a blush colored her cheeks.

"Hi," I replied with a smile, reaching out to curl a lock of her hair around my finger. She blushed even redder at the simple contact, and my heart broke for this lost girl.

She shifted a little closer, still bundled in the warm bedding, her eyes darting between mine and the expanse of mattress between us nervously. "I didn't know if you'd be here," she admitted, her voice as soft as a whisper.

"Is that okay?" I asked, twirling my finger around the lock of hair again and again. I was showing my hand, and it was a big reveal on my part. I wasn't sure how she felt yet, but I wanted to extend myself, and I wanted her to know that what I felt for her went beyond last night.

She shifted a little closer, and I did too. "Yeah, I'm glad you did. I just—" She began to stammer, clearly nervous as she fidgeted and squirmed.

I cupped the side of her face, causing her to sigh. "It's okay. Please tell me. I want to know what you're thinking."

She laughed humorlessly, another anxious gesture, and continued to redden. "It's just that, I'm not used to it. Guys wanting to stay, that is."

As my heart sank a little at her confession, she pulled the blankets over her head and wailed, "Oh God, that probably makes me sound awful!"

I didn't know what to think. I didn't figure Bella was a virgin. No, last night definitely put that notion out of my mind, and I wasn't angry that she had a past, but I felt… jealous… possessive. Right or wrong, I thought of her as _mine_, and I wanted to protect what was mine. She had been hurt by these men who had treated her so callously. I didn't know whether to want to kill these heartless idiots for hurting _my_ girl or thank them for leaving the door open for me.

I ducked my head under the covers to join her. Her hands were pressed over her face, but I could smell the rush of blood to her capillaries, staining her cheeks. I wrapped my hands around her wrists and gave them a gentle tug. I wanted to see her face, and I wanted her to see mine. "The past doesn't matter to me. If you want to tell me about it, I'll listen, but I want you to know it's not my intention to hurt you. I'm not into playing games, and I'm not looking for a roll in the hay. If you're not ready for a relationship or pursuing things further, that's okay too, but don't be afraid to be honest with me. I don't want to insert myself in your life if you're not—"

She leaned in quick to surprise me with a peck on the lips, and it's not easy to surprise a vampire. I wanted it to be much more than a quick kiss, but I appreciated the sentiment behind it. Even in the brief exchange, I could feel the smile grace her lips and see the posture of her body relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, settling back down next to me. "I just, I don't know _how_ to do this, how to be in a relationship. I haven't had much luck with that."

Frankly, I couldn't imagine it. I could see why my "relationships" had been few and far between. It took the enjoyment out of the evening when you inadvertently snapped a girl's neck when you leaned in for a first kiss. One or two events like that was enough to put you off dating co-eds for a while. Or worse, you heard the vapid, selfish, or shallow thoughts rattling inside her head. No one, vampire or human, held any interest for me the way Bella did. But why didn't anyone stay with Bella?

"I can't imagine that," I said, poking the tip of her nose.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "I'm…weird?"

I wanted to chuckle at her remark until I realized that she did not intend to be funny.

"That's the only thing I can conclude, anyway. I've never been very girly, and my parents didn't raise me to be rescued by anyone. I was always independent, and when I lived in Washington I was always the tomboy playing on the beach or in the woods. After I lost my mom and dad, I just became kinda removed and serious."

She sighed heavily, and I knew she wasn't done talking. I watched her as her eyes began to glisten and she worried at her lip.

"My, uh, my dad was murdered, and I saw the whole thing. I never got over that, ya know? It was never solved, and I haven't been able to let that go." She sniffled once and tried to smile again. "That's part of the reason I became a cop. I never wanted anyone to feel the way I did. I didn't want anyone else's family to be left without answers. Those choices have guided me through my life. I think it freaks some people out that I won't let it go and that I bring my work home with me. My job doesn't end at 5:00. I bring home files filled with gory photos, I think about my cases when other people go to the movies or go out to dinner. I think that guys are uncomfortable with all of it."

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting her to say, but this wasn't it. Suddenly her loneliness, the deep wound within her, was explained. If she never said another word on the matter, I would understand why she was so emotionally removed and so hesitant to make connections. She'd lost the people closest to her. If you didn't let yourself love people, you wouldn't be hurt if and when they inevitably left. I waited several moments to make sure she was done sharing before I spoke. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I don't think you're strange at all. I see dedication, compassion, independence, and strength. If anyone has trouble with that, perhaps it's their problem."

I remembered the conversation I had with Tanya a couple months ago. She'd been right all along. She'd told me to get to know Bella, and the rest would fall into place, the emotion would come. I didn't know what love was, but I cared deeply for Bella, I wanted to be around her all the time, and I didn't want to share her with anyone.

I was angry on her behalf that these men would punish and reject her for having passion.

"No one has ever said anything like that to me before." She attempted to move closer but realized we were separated by the layers of bedding. "What did you do?" she laughed, pulling at the blankets.

If _I_ could have blushed, I might have. "I didn't want you to be cold, and I wasn't sure if it was too personal."

She smiled a real smile. "No, silly, climb under."

I sat up on the edge of the bed and peeled the covers back before slipping back under as discreetly as I could. I was fully aroused, and I didn't want her to think that was all I was interested in. To be honest, I think I'd been hard since I met her. I caught Bella peeking as I rejoined her under the space for sharing that we'd created.

She smiled shyly and pressed her lips together as her eyes darted quickly downward and then back up. "Wait right here. Don't move," she instructed, sliding out of our little tent.

I heard her run next door to the bathroom, tripping over the pile of clothes at the end of the bed with a curse. As the water splashed in the sink, and I smelled the distinct smell of toothpaste in the air, I rolled over and groaned into her pillow. The little canopy was cooler without Bella's body heat, but her bouquet clung to every surface. I reached down and adjusted myself, giving my cock a little stroke. I groaned again as my hips pumped toward my hand.

I heard the tap shut off, and Bella yanked the door open, hurrying back to the bed. I removed my hand and resumed my earlier position. She peeled the blankets back and flopped back on the mattress.

"Sorry, I just… needed a minute," she explained.

Humans were odd little creatures. They prefaced so many actions by announcing it or apologizing for it. It was evident that I wasn't playing human very well this morning either. I probably should have excused myself to the bathroom too, but now that she returned to the bed, leaving was the last thing I wanted to do.

"No apologies necessary," I answered, grabbing her bare hip and pulling her closer. Her fingers reached out for me too, settling on my waist and climbing up over my ribcage in a staccato rhythm as she got closer.

She pushed her haystack hair behind her ear and the nervousness reappeared. "Um, I probably should have shared this last night but, well, heat of the moment, you know. I'm, uh, on the pill, so there's no need to worry or anything."

I hadn't even considered the notion of pregnancy. Would human men have considered that? I often heard them worrying about fatherhood and pregnancy, but even when they were caught up in the lust of the moment? Christ, no wonder I hadn't survived humanity for long, I must have been a failure at it.

"Okay," I answered stupidly. "I should have taken more responsibility, been more careful. I'm sorry too."

She looked away. "It's okay. I just didn't want you to think I was stupid or trying to trap you or anything. I just—"

Her inane mumbling was so human and deliciously awkward, I couldn't help it; I had to kiss her. She squeaked with surprise when I took her top lip between mine and tugged gently. Her hand smoothed over my chest to my hip where she pulled purposefully, hinting that I should roll toward her. I was careful not to put too much weight on her pelvis as I settled halfway over her body and slipped my left leg between hers. Immediately, she hiked her right leg up over my hip, opening herself up to me.

I moved away from her lips, kissing a path down the column of her neck. Her breathing began to get more ragged the further down my lips traveled. I had been too afraid to let my mouth anywhere near her breasts last night. Each and every time I'd slowed things down last night, it was for her own safety. Bella's human impulses were her worst enemy. The frenzied pace was gone today, and I felt more in control, so I let my mouth descend on one of the places it most wanted to go.

She hissed sharply when my lips closed around the perfect pink peak, and she dug her fingers deep into my hair, holding my head in place. I swiped my thumb over the underside of her breast while my tongue darted out to stroke her nipple, and she bucked her hips against mine.

I was positive that no experience in my existence had been this profound and passionate. I didn't know what her mind considered in these lustful moments, but every sigh, touch, and beat of her heart told me I was doing something right. The temptation to let my mouth wander even lower was growing, and I had to see how far I could go before needing to turn back. I didn't think I could be desensitized to Bella's feminine scent, but if I could begin to build up a tolerance, perhaps it could benefit us both greatly.

My hungry lips cascaded over the crescent of Bella's breast, lingering over each fragile rib before continuing on a meandering path to the soft part of her stomach near her navel. Her respiration and pulse increased exponentially the lower I went, and she writhed beneath me, making my decision to stop at her hipbone painfully difficult. I knew she wanted it, and I wanted to give it to her badly, but not enough to risk her life. It would happen eventually, but not yet.

I breathed heavily against the crest of her hip, letting my tongue dart out to taste her skin one last time. Not only was the scent of her arousal stronger here, but so was the blood rushing through her femoral artery. Perhaps I could have overcome one temptation, but not both.

I trailed the tip of my nose back up over the path my lips had taken only moments before. If she was terribly disappointed in my decision not to taste her, her expression didn't betray her, though her mind may have been screaming obscenities at me. She took my face between her hands and pressed a kiss to my lips.

My hand smoothed the length of her side and down between her legs. We both moaned against each others' lips when I found her wet and ready for me.

I wasted no time, hitching her leg further over my hip and sliding into her heat. Our hips rocked slowly, but the pace allowed me to settle more deeply inside her until she closed her eyes and shuddered in my arms with my name on her lips. It pushed me over the edge and I came along with her.

Breathless, Bella relaxed back against the mattress and pulled me with her. I rested my head on her chest and gently traced the tattoo over her left breast with my little finger.

"It tickles" she said with a smile, squirming under my touch.

I took it as a compliment; it was the gentlest touch I could manage.

"Sorry. Can I ask what number 328 stands for?" I didn't know if she would open up, but I desperately wanted her to.

She didn't answer for a minute, but threaded her fingers through my hair. I attempted to lift my head, but she gave me physical resistance. "It was my dad's badge number," she admitted. "I wanted it over my heart so I would never forget."

I felt like such a heel for pushing her. I couldn't seem to resist forcing her to spill her innermost secrets. "Bella, I'm so sorry."

With a deep breath, she shrugged and continued to stroke my hair. "It's okay. You didn't know."

I lifted my head and pressed my lips to the raised skin. "I think it's a touching tribute. I'm sure your dad would be impressed. Is the other one—" I couldn't lie, the thought of the handcuffs on her hipbone was insanely hot.

She interrupted me with a snort. "No. That was a drunken spring break in Florida."

"And what about this?" I asked, smoothing my index finger over the cross on a chain wrapped around her wrist. I hadn't seen it before last night, and it surprised me.

Bella's gaze darted from my fingers to my face. It was strange. I didn't understand the expression. It was something between curiosity and fear perhaps. Maybe she was apprehensive about broaching the topic? Her faith would not turn me off from her in any way.

"I, um…"

I was making her uncomfortable, and it wasn't my intent. I simply wanted to keep her talking, to know more about her. Tanya's advice was working; I was just making a mess of it. I tried to put her at ease by stroking the inside of her wrist. The skin was so smooth and warm beneath my touch. "It's okay, Bella. You don't have to share anything you don't want to. I'm being nosey, and it's unfair of me."

"It's not that. It's just…"

She continued to stare at me with intensity before sharing her head and almost laughing at herself. "It's nothing, I'm just being dumb. I got this in Forks at a tourist shop. I guess I just wanted a piece of home. It's petrified wood from Washington." She turned her wrist over, watching the charm dangle from the chain. "It's a necklace, but it didn't match my dress last night, so I wore it there. I like having it with me—for protection or something."

I took her wrist in my hand and pressed a kiss to the pulse point there. I hoped it would keep her safe if and when I couldn't. "It's lovely."

The odd expression melted away and she smiled. So trusting. I wished I knew what she was thinking.

Just as I resettled my head against her chest and she resumed finger-combing my hair, I heard footsteps in the hall and loud pounding at the door.

Sitting up quick, I went into vampire mode, smelling the air around us for any hint of who her visitor might be and searching out the thoughts of those on Bella's floor.

"_Fucking turned her fucking phone off. She ought to be written up for this."_

The loudest voice in the vicinity belonged to her detective partner, Mike Newton. His thoughts were grating and usually crass.

"Shit," Bella grumbled, struggling to untangle herself from the blankets. She stumbled to the end of the bed where the pile of clothing sat from the night before. Newton pounded on the door again, and I felt myself growing angrier at his rude thoughts and interference.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Bella hissed, stepping into her underwear, tripping and barely catching herself before falling flat on the floor. She rifled through the pile, picking up my white shirt. She smiled over at me before slipping it on, the sleeves far too long on her petite arms. She didn't initially button the shirt, opting to grab my boxers and step into them first.

Newton pounded one more time and hollered, "Bella!"

"I'm coming!" Bella yelled back angrily.

"_She needs a fucking leash."_

She hurried over to the bedside and leaned over me, pressing a kiss to my lips. "Stay here, okay?"

The shirt was open, affording me a lovely view of her breasts. _Those are mine_, I thought, fastening the three buttons in the center of the shirt faster than I should have in her presence. She didn't notice, darting out of the room, shutting the door halfway.

Immediately, I got up and sat on the edge of the bed. I would stay here if Detective Newton could mind his manners.

I heard the lock turn and the door fling open, hitting the door stop.

"Jesus, Bella, I've been calling you since—what are you wearing? Who's here?"

I could hear every word, even if he wasn't nearly yelling. I didn't appreciate his tone. I knew Bella didn't want someone to rescue her at every turn, but it went against my instinct to leave a mate unprotected. I eyed my pants on the floor near the dresser. I knew I could dart there and back without being seen, but I didn't want to underestimate Bella.

"_I wonder if she went home with that guy she was hanging all over last night."_

"None of your business, Mike. What do you want?"

I smiled, glad that she stood up to him. I hoped a part of her wanted to claim me and tell Detective Newton she was in a relationship, but it was new, and I didn't want to tarnish her reputation in any way. I knew she wasn't ashamed.

"I've been calling you since 5a.m., Swan. Third shift found a body this morning. The Tech Unit just finished up."

"What?" Bella asked. "Shit. I turned my phone off last night. Where? When?"

"Didn't want to be disturbed, eh? The Chief is pissed. He's gonna have your ass."

"_Speaking of which, I'd like to have your ass too."_

I growled, unable to hold it in. Standing up, I wanted to be ready if I had to go out there.

Bella groaned. "Great. Damn it. I can't do anything about it now. So, the body?"

Newton sighed. "It was found in the parking garage of the convention center. The vic was the DJ from the Policeman's Ball."

The words sunk in for Bella and for me. Not only had the killer made a cold calculation and killed another person right under the department's nose, but he had been killed while Bella and I were together last night.

She remained quiet for several minutes. "So, the time of death was after the party let out and before dawn? The setting is totally different—not rural—did Tech find anything?"

There was no way there was a vampire inside the hall last night. Even though there were many different scents all mingling, my family would have caught the smell of another one of us. I was betting he either came in after we left or waited in the garage. Regardless, he knew what he was doing.

"Not a thing." Newton confirmed.

I could hear Bella pacing the carpet, her bare feet scuffing across the floor. "Damn it. Is there anything I can do?"

There was a snort of derision. "It's been taken care of. File will be on your desk tomorrow morning. You'd better turn your phone back on. I'll text the chief and let him know you're not the latest victim."

The door opened, quieter than before, and Mike left. I sat back down on the bed. Bella didn't return for several minutes. Just when I debated going out to her, I heard her walking purposefully down the hall.

She pushed the door open and saw me sitting at the side of the bed. She came to stand in front of me, tossed her phone on the mattress, and took my face in her hands, tilting it toward hers. She lowered her lips to mine and kissed me with as much passion as I would let her while still keeping my teeth away from her.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed against my mouth.

I almost chuckled. "For what?" And then it hit me. The DJ's time of death was _my_ alibi. I gave her a tight smile. "So I really was a suspect?"

She sat down in my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist, still clutching my face. "No, not really, but I'm sorry I even considered it. It's just that you behaved _so_ strangely the day I first saw you at the café. It just gave me an odd feeling, I had to try and trust my instinct. Please don't be angry. If I had any feeling that you were guilty, last night wouldn't have happened. I trusted you."

She put an amazing amount of faith in me last night—her very life. I had to put my confidence in her too. Her eyes were sincere, and if there was ever a chance for us to have some kind of relationship, I had to start being honest with her in increments.

"That day…" I paused, eventually finding resolve and nodding, "Ask me about it sometime later. But know that I was captivated by you even then."

She rested her forehead against mine. "Okay, just as long as you believe me."

I gave her an inclination of the head. "I do, just as long as _you_ believe _me_."

She nodded too, more eagerly than me. "I do, and I really am sorry."

I patted her thighs. "I know. You were doing your job, and I admire you. Maybe I'm weird too," I added with a smirk. "I'm sorry I raised your suspicion."

"How can I make it up to you?" she asked, nuzzling her nose against mine.

I let my hands creep up to her thighs to my boxers. "Give me my shorts back so I can make you breakfast?"

She laughed a little, clearly uncomfortable. "One thing you should know about me is that I don't cook—at all. I'm lucky if there's food here. You're welcome to scavenge my kitchen though."

Climbing into the bed, she shimmied out of my shorts, handing them to me. "Thanks for letting me borrow them."

"Anytime," I answered, putting them on. "You make them look sexy." I stopped at the foot of the bed and retrieved my phone from the pocket of my pants.

Wandering down the hall and into the kitchen, I looked in the refrigerator and the cupboards. From the night I brought her back home after drinking at The Dive I knew she didn't have much. I found a loaf of bread in the freezer next to a stack of frozen dinners and a stick of butter. Toast it is. As I defrosted the bread, I rifled through a narrow cupboard above the microwave with limited cooking and baking staples. Among them were Earl Grey tea bags, sugar, and cinnamon.

I made a quick breakfast of cinnamon toast and a cup of hot tea. Before I plated it up, I sent Alice a quick text asking her to bring my car if she could. I stopped quickly to turn the heat back down and carried a stack of toast and the tea back to Bella's room where she lounged against the headboard, playing with her phone. The sight of her in only my shirt and her underwear and her thoroughly tousled hair did wicked things to my body.

She placed the phone on the nightstand and patted the mattress. "Cinnamon toast? I loved that growing up, I don't think I've had it in years."

I set the plate down and handed her the mug. "I wasn't sure how you took your tea." I had no idea if I was doing this right, but it sounded like conversations I'd heard in the café.

She smiled and held the cup under her nose, breathing in the steam. "This is perfect, thank you." She took a slice of the toast and took a bite. "Have a piece."

I settled next to her and put up a hand in denial. "No thanks. I don't usually eat in the morning. Sensitive stomach," I said, patting my abdomen for added emphasis.

She frowned. "Well, it was nice of you to think of me."

She crunched on toast and the first awkward silence developed between us. Maybe I should have offered to leave, but I really couldn't tear myself away.

Glancing sideways at me, she finally broke the silence. "What are you doing this week?" Her voice was heavy with implication, betraying more than simple curiosity.

I shrugged. "Nothing really." Perhaps to her it made me sound incredibly spoiled. "I promised to write an article for a forensics journal, and I should probably get started on that." She didn't need to know it would only take me a short while. "My new piano is being delivered on Friday."

"Really?" her eyebrows were raised. "You play? I'd like to hear you sometime."

"Any time." And I meant it. I shouldn't want to show off in front of her, but a part of me wanted her praise too.

"And what about your article? Is it…okay if I call you this week? Or shouldn't I?"

I knew exactly what she was doing, she was giving me an out again. I didn't want an out at all.

I tucked her hair behind her ear so I could see her face more clearly. "You can call me any time, Bella, and I'd like to be able to call you too. Is that okay? I don't want to smother you, but I'd like to see you a lot."

She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her head on her knees and looked my way, smiling slightly. "You do? I mean, I wanna see you too. I just don't want you to think I'm being too clingy. I told you, this is unfamiliar territory for me. I don't know how to proceed or what's normal and what is too much."

I didn't need to see her pink cheeks to know she was blushing. I could smell the rush of blood. "Let's not worry about what's normal. I don't care about normal dating behavior or the men who mistreated you in the past, I'm not them. I want to see you."

She leaned over and pressed her lips to my bare arm. "I should go into work and see if I still have a job, but what if I said I wanted to see you tonight for a D.C. Comics movie night?"

I was elated. She was inviting me back. I'd be here watching out for her regardless, but it felt less perverse to be invited. I let her settle against my side and wrapped my arm around her.

"I would say, 'I'll see you tonight, Miss Lane.'"

She smiled. "If I'm Lois, does that make you Superman?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I'm more of a Dark Knight." I could never have the pure intentions of Superman. I wasn't born into this life; it was forced upon me.

She said nothing but appeared to be mulling it over. What I wouldn't give to know.

"How about I bring some takeout over when I come back?" I asked, wanting to give her something better to eat than what was in her freezer. "Italian? Chinese?"

She doodled aimlessly over my skin, and the sensation felt amazing. "Mm, we always used to have Chinese on hangover days when I was in college. That sounds great, actually."

With reluctance, I got up from the bed and picked up my pants, socks, shoes, and jacket from the floor. I stepped into my pants and sat on the end of the bed.

"Want a ride home? I won't be ready for about an hour, but I'd be happy to take you home."

I looked over my shoulder as I pulled one sock on. She was biting the edge of her nail, and I could see her pink panties from beneath her splayed legs. I pulled the other sock on and tried to will down my erection. "It's alright, I asked Alice to bring my car. Thanks though."

I flopped back on the bed and grabbed her ankle with one hand and crooked my finger at her with the other. The skin was just as smooth and soft as I imagined it would be. "Come here," I whispered.

Bella crawled toward me, and I helped her straddle my thighs. I reached up slowly and began to unfasten the buttons on the shirt I'd closed only a short time ago.

With the slip of each button her heart rate increased marginally. She licked her lips and watched my fingers slip between the fabric and slowly separate it. They trailed all the way to the collar before sliding it off her shoulders, letting my little finger graze over her collarbone in the process. She shivered.

I let the shirt fall all the way down into my lap before I held onto her hips and sat up. I leaned forward and buried my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply, and reaching blindly for my shirt. Letting my lips trail along her shoulder, I slipped my arms into the shirtsleeves. Bella's hands were on the collar, slowly tugging it upward. When it was in place, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the hollow beneath my ear as her fingers clasped the row of buttons.

The desire to take her one more time was almost overwhelming, but I didn't want to hurt her. Perhaps there would be occasion tonight.

I sighed deeply. "You're making it awfully hard to leave you," I admitted, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Me? What about you? You started it this time," she insisted with a trace of humor in her voice.

I traced down the center of her chest with one finger, excited by her reaction—the racing of her heart and the hardening of her nipples. I let my lips trail over the tattoo above her heart one more time. "Oh no, Detective," I breathed against her skin, "it's always been you."

My phone chimed once, and I knew it must be Alice. "Mm, I'm afraid that's my sister. I should go."

As I stepped into my shoes and pulled on my jacket, Bella grabbed a T-shirt from her dresser and pulled it on. It bore the silhouette of a woman and said _What Would Detective Beckett Do?_ The humor was lost on me.

Bella walked me to the front door, leaning against it as she had last night. She grabbed the lapels of my jacket and pulled me close. "Come back around seven?"

I brushed my nose up against hers. "Yes, what would you like for dinner?"

"Surprise me," she answered nuzzling me back.

I smiled. "Deal. I'll see you later. Be safe."

She moved away from the door, and I turned the knob and stepped out into the hall. Bella peeked out around the door frame and waved. I winked back before turning and striding toward the steps at the end of the breezeway. I heard her door shut and lock behind me.

The fresh air in the hall soothed the subtle burning in my throat. It was a sensation I'd have to get used to. I would simmer and burn every day for Bella.

I hurried down the stairs spying Alice in the passenger seat of my car parked near Bella's in the lot. She was smiling. Knowing full well I'd be teased mercilessly, I sighed as I approached my car and steeled myself for the ribbing.

"Thanks for coming," I said, climbing into the car and staring out through the windshield at the apartment I'd just vacated. I could feel the pull to be close to her, and I was tempted to exit the car and return to the little world where only Bella and I existed.

Alice laughed. "Wow. You smell like—"

"Alice," I interrupted in a warning tone, unsure of what she would say.

"Don't worry. I wasn't going to say sex. I'm too much of a lady for that—even if you do. I was going to say human."

I took a deep breath. I could still smell Bella on my skin and on my clothes, and I fought the urge to groan in response. Her scent was pure poison. "I know," I sighed.

Alice was quiet for a moment, her face frozen in a glossy stare. I knew the future was about to change—or she was about to change it. "Go park at the north end of the lot. Bella won't see you when she leaves."

I started the engine and moved to another space in the parking lot. There was no way I would leave Bella unprotected. She may be safe at the precinct, but here she was a sitting duck.

We were quiet for several moments, Alice scanning our immediate outlook and me listening for any signs of distress or concern. "Can you see her any better?" I asked my sister.

She shook her head. "Not really. I just haven't tuned into her very well yet. I think it will come though. When you're with her, or when _your_ future is affected, I see things much clearer."

As we sat in the car, watching for Bella to leave, I told Alice what I felt comfortable sharing—mainly the sad details about Bella's miserable journey to orphanhood, and why her behavior and mood suddenly made sense. I also told her about the DJ's murder last night after the Policeman's Ball.

"It's really unfortunate, but I agree, it makes sense. Poor Bella. She's spent her whole life trying to save other people because she couldn't save her dad, and if you don't form human connections, you can't feel that loss."

Bella emerged forty-six minutes later dressed for work and departed for the police station. She would be safe there. I thought if I was going to potentially spend another night with Bella, I'd better hunt again. The strategy worked the first time. Alice offered to accompany me, but I really wanted to be alone.

We drove home in silence, but I could see the smile twitching on Alice's lips. When we pulled up the long drive, she leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. "I'm really happy for you, Edward."

"Get out of here. I don't need a congratulatory hug either," I said, ducking my shoulder away from her.

She giggled and got out of the car. For a brief moment I thought about going in to change, but the thoughts coming from inside the house quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

"_Dude! Score! I can't believe you bagged that hot human chick without killing her! Way to go!"_

"_I had faith in you, Edward."_

"_When are you bringing your girlfriend home to meet us?"_

Never, at this rate.

I quickly abandoned the plan to go inside. I didn't need or want pats on the back for a successful sexual encounter with a human.

I drove about an hour before I saw the exit for one of the State Parks of New York. It was easy prey but also a dangerous location in fall if hunters were about. I decided to risk it because I couldn't count on Bella staying put for any too long, and I wanted to get back to her.

I parked my car on an access road about a mile from the park and took my jacket off before leaving the car. I tucked my phone into the pocket of my pants and set off in a sprint through the trees at the east side of the park.

..::::::..

I found more enjoyment than I thought I would find in taking down the larger animals in the small herd. As I finished drinking from the third deer and picked up the body to dispose of it, I felt my phone vibrate against my leg. I ignored the call for a moment so I could hide the evidence of my kill. I felt the phone buzz again, and I dropped the carcass, digging through my pocket for the phone. The display showed Alice was calling.

"Hey, Al-"

"Get to Irondequoit Bay Park West right now. Bella is jogging, and she's about to be in trouble."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you, thank you to Duskwatcher2153 for the beta and circa1918 for the writing advice. Both were appreciated._

_Thank you for all the warm reviews on the last chapter. They all made my day._

_Someone asked about Edward's sexual history. I've chosen to be intentionally vague regarding his past. I really want YOU ALL to be able to decide for yourselves what Edward's experience is. I don't intend for it to be a cop out, rather that some readers still like to see him as unblemished in this one respect. I know what *I* think, but what about you? Do you see him as more experienced or less?_

_Don't forget the link to my PhotoBucket album on my profile page. It includes pics from the Policeman's Ball and Bella's What Would Detective Beckett Do? T-shirt. For reference, Beckett is from ABC's Castle! She is Bella's favorite TV detective._

_The next chapter is written, and I'm going to try to get it out ASAP. I know I've left you with a bit of a cliffie there. I like staying two or three chapters ahead of you and keeping that buffer. You all read much faster than I write. ^_^ Things are getting tricky too, so I like to make sure I've not missed something big or painted myself into a corner too quickly!_

_Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans! Happy July 4__th__ to everyone else ^_^_


	16. The Sharpest Lives

I drove into the office with the most ridiculous smile on my face. In the last twenty-four hours my life had taken such a dramatic turn. It was only yesterday that I told Angela that things were in the early stages with a man and now? It was hard not to be swept up in the emotion of this new _thing_. To be honest, I didn't even know what it was, but I felt happy for the first time in a damn long time.

I had fallen into the same pattern I always did with men, but today I didn't feel guilty over my decisions, and I didn't feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Today felt different. _Edward_ was different.

I had been myself around him. I had told him the truth about me and my fucked up life, and he wanted to see me again regardless.

I shivered in response to thinking of him. Last night had been something otherworldly and wonderful. I don't know how I navigated the roads because my mind was a lustful haze of remembered touches, kisses, and whispered words.

I parked my car and glanced around the parking lot at the precinct. There were very few cars here today. In years past, I had volunteered to work the morning after the Policeman's Ball to spare those with hangovers from coming into work. The small number of cars also told me that it was a slower day—despite the earlier drama. I looked at the clock before I turned off the car—12:17p.m., less than seven hours until I saw Edward again.

I entered the building and caught the odd glances from my co-workers to let me know my name was mud today, and I had been talked about. I was stupid enough to make a rookie mistake and turn off my phone and probably caused unnecessary worry and made other officers come in to cover my ass. They needed to get over it though, I'd done the same for them many times before.

I ducked into my cubicle, but unfortunately there was no file on my desk. No termination notice either. Always a good sign. Disappointed about the lack of information, I proceeded through the maze of desks and dividers to the Chief's office.

The door was open, and he stood at the window looking down at the street below. His hair looked more salt than pepper these days, and the lines and wrinkles on his face seemed to multiply overnight.

I knocked on the open door as I walked in. "Hey, Chief." I tried to make my voice sound contrite, but I had no idea if it worked.

He didn't turn around. "Did you ever want to just run away, Swan? Like, pick up whatever was most dear, whatever you could fit in one car, and leave the rest behind?"

I slumped in the chair and felt a pang in my chest. I'd done it twice. I knew what it was like to pack precious mementos in boxes because it was all you had left and drive and cry until you couldn't see anymore. But I didn't share that. "Yeah," I admitted.

He pushed away from the window and came to sit on the edge of his desk. "Glad to know you're okay. I'll admit, I was worried for a bit."

I fidgeted with my hands. "Sorry, I turned my phone off before the ball, and I forgot to turn it back on. Mike stopped by this morning and chewed my ass out."

I didn't look up at him. I vaguely wondered if this was what it was like to disappoint a parent.

He sighed. "I'd probably write up a lesser officer, but you've put more of yourself into this investigation than anyone, and I'm giving you a break."

I wasn't dumb enough to point out he'd given me a break not long ago when I took my vacation to Forks. I swallowed uncomfortably. "Anything turn up yet?" I asked, digging the toe of one shoe into the plush carpet.

"Nah. Tech Unit is still pouring over photos, but we won't find anything." I looked up as he tapped his stomach with a clenched fist. "I feel it in my gut."

We were silent for a few moments before he sighed again. "Go home, Swan. Honestly, there's nothing to do but sit and wait."

Sit and wait for what? Evidence to surface? Another murder?

He walked around behind his desk and lowered himself into the chair, turning his attention to his computer. I got the hint that he wanted to be alone.

"Hang in there, Chief," I offered, rising to leave.

He said nothing, and I excused myself.

I didn't make eye contact with anyone as I left and returned to my car. I sat there for several minutes, watching squad cars leave with flashing lights and sirens wailing. It never failed to take me back to the day at the boat launch.

I shook off the thought and started the car, driving toward home on the same route I always took, passing a sign for the park where I often jogged. I had lots of time before Edward returned, and if I was home alone I would just sit and think and worry he wouldn't come back. I knew I had a gym bag in the back seat, so I made a split second decision to go for a run. I knew I would think about Edward no matter what, but at least if I kept active, time would seem to pass more quickly.

I turned down the lonely road, away from the highway and the suburbs, toward the park near the river. At the bend in the road was the small, gravel parking lot for the park. There were few cars in the lot today, and I parked at the far end near the fence, furthest from the rest of the vehicles. A quick glance at the thermometer told me it was 61 degrees and mostly cloudy. Not a bad day for a run.

I grabbed my bag from the back seat and hurriedly changed into my shorts and Wonder Woman T-shirt, fully aware that I could be busted for indecent exposure if I wasn't careful. I left my phone and keys under the floor mat and secured my gun in the trunk per protocol.

I did some simple stretches to loosen up before securing an armband above my elbow and selecting the jogging playlist on my mp3 player. I popped my earbuds in and set off on the wide, paved trail.

It must have rained overnight. The trees had lost most of their pretty foliage, causing a mess of leaves with once-bold colors to bleed into brown, matted against the path.

My feet pounded on the track as I sang along with the lyrics, setting a comfortable pace. Once in a while I thought the sun would peak through the thin, grey clouds, and with every attempt the sky got a little lighter, and my anticipation only grew.

A couple of other joggers passed me going the opposite direction, but otherwise I was alone with my thoughts and they were quite jumbled.

I couldn't help but think of Edward.

Maybe I needed to get a grip. Maybe he wouldn't even show up tonight. Maybe I had been too honest, too hopeful. Were the only relationships I was destined to have one night stands? Did I know any emotion past lust? I couldn't acknowledge the little niggling voice in the back of my head telling me that I _might_ be falling in love with Edward.

The wind picked up a little, rustling the few remaining leaves on the trees and causing the hair that escaped my elastic to whip around my face. I had an odd feeling I was being watched. I turned and looked over my right shoulder and swore I saw something in the trees.

The shape was vague, blurred because it was moving too, but the form was unmistakably human. I came to a fork in the path and I took a right. The trail was a mile longer than the left one and went deeper into the park, but it would take me past the strange apparition.

I started to think I was crazy because I couldn't see what I thought I'd seen anymore. What _did_ I see anyway? A person leaping through the tree limbs three stories off the ground? My mind rapidly tried to fill in the blanks and make what I thought I'd seen make sense.

Tree trimmers?

Some kind of stunt?

The sun playing tricks on my mind? That was most likely, was there anything else remotely logical? This whole thing was crazy and nonsensical. It was just as likely that I was overtired or dehydrated.

I continued to run, pacing myself, but I didn't notice the music anymore. My eyes were trained on the trees in the distance. Watching. Waiting.

I ran another fifty yards before the hair rose on the back of my neck, and I had the feeling I wasn't alone anymore. I looked over each shoulder and saw no one on the path behind me, but when I turned back around, there was a man standing on the lowest limb of the oak tree directly in front of me, looming over the path.

Skidding to a halt, I almost slipped on the wet leaves and wood chips beneath my running shoes.

Oddly, I thought of my gun and cell phone locked away in my trunk. I wished I had them now.

Taking a deep breath, I sized up the man above me.

He took a non-threatening posture with his arm outstretched, leaning against the trunk of the tree, but his smirk told me something else. Otherwise, he looked very ordinary; nothing special. He was of average height, but looked to be in good shape underneath his jeans and flannel shirt. I started to bring forth my self-defense techniques.

My mind was running one hundred miles an hour, struggling to process the scene in front of me. Who was this man? How did he get up there? And furthermore, what did he want?

"Detective Swan? My, my, my, how you've changed. Then again, it has been a while." I squinted, trying to place the man. He had a strong, square jaw, and he was handsome in his own way. His eyes were small and sunk into his face like dark stones at the bottom of a pool, and his dishwater blonde hair was in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Did I know this person? He seemed to know me. I tried to determine if I recognized the face that stared down at me from the tree, but I was looking toward the thinly veiled sun and couldn't see his face well. I said nothing in response, but I took a step backward and assumed a protective posture.

He stepped off the branch as though he was just stepping off the curb and dropped the thirty feet to the forest floor. He landed like a cat, his knees bent to absorb the impact in almost a crouch. The fall should have broken his legs.

I kept our distance by taking another step back. "H-how do I know you?" I asked, watching as he straightened up and began moving in a wide circle around me, forcing me to move too, to maintain the space between us.

"You don't remember me?" He mocked incredulously, laughing afterward. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves and the hair brushing against the collar of his denim jacket. "You wound me, Detective. I thought if you'd remember any day of your past, it would be _that_ one. My name is James, and we've met just once before."

A chill raced up my spine, and my hands began to shake. My throat was dry and tight. There was only one day in my life I knew I'd never be able to forget. The clouds shifted and the sunlight filtered down through the thin canopy. The faint brightness engulfed the man, the light fractured like a prism the minute it hit his skin, casting a shimmering glow over his face and hands like diamond dust. An unbidden memory flashed through my consciousness.

_The rocking boat as someone jumped down from the tree on the bend of the river_

_My dad struggling._

_A cold, shimmering hand reaching out for me as I squinted up at the face of death in the sunlight._

_My father's lifeless body with his neck split wide open._

I opened my mouth to scream, but the mysterious man closed the distance between us too fast, standing before me with his finger pressed to my lips.

"Shh, you don't want to do that, Isabella."

I couldn't move. I just stood trembling. The way he said my name, the way his skin sparkled, the way he jumped out of the tree above me—I wasn't sure what was the present and what was the past anymore. My throat would surely be ripped out by this… blood drinker, savage, murderer. There would be no second date with Edward, and I wouldn't solve the—

The murders. It was as if the missing piece of a puzzle was finally uncovered. We never found footprints on the ground because there weren't any to find there. I'd always thought it was as if the bodies fell right out of the sky—and what if they did? After watching this man jump from the tree, it was no longer far-fetched.

He withdrew his finger from my trembling lips. "Y-you," I stammered as hot tears ran down my cheeks.

He smiled wide, baring his teeth. "I've been waiting a long time for this, little Isabella. There were a lot of casualties along the way."

The guilt rose up in me. Were all these deaths my fault? Had dozens of innocents died in place of me?

I sobbed out the only word I could think of. I wanted answers, and I thought I deserved to know. "Why?"

With a simple shrug he answered my question the way many murderers I'd interviewed had answered similar questions. "Why not? You smelled so good. Daddy was just collateral damage. It was _you_ I wanted."

I crumpled to the ground, unable to stand anymore. My fault, my fault, all my fault. Why hadn't he just taken me from the start and spared my dad? Had this ghost been haunting me my whole life? Could I have stopped it and spared so many others' hurt?

A word lingered at the back of my mind, a word I'd pushed aside since the day on the river in Forks—vampire. Was life as I knew it a farce? Was there a whole other world that existed beyond my perception?

He stepped back and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket faster than humanly possible, and I knew I was dealing with something cold-blooded. I didn't want to give up, didn't want to quit, but it was easier to be the little girl cold and alone in the hull of a boat, totally adrift and better off not knowing what was coming.

The man smiled down at me. "I hope you taste half as good as you smell. Let's find out."

Before I could close my eyes and wait for my impending death, rapid movement caught my attention. From the depth of the woods, Edward appeared and barreled into my would-be attacker. The sound of their collision sounded like thunder. As I scrabbled back behind the nearest tree trunk, I heard growling and snarling as the two of them faced off. They both dropped into a crouch like two wrestlers, but I didn't think the outcome would be as simple as a pin to the mat.

I couldn't watch anymore. I didn't _want_ to watch anymore. I had watched someone I cared about be ripped to shreds, and I was sure no giant wolf was there to save us this time from this… _vampire_. Curling into the fetal position around the trunk of the tree, I cried, waiting for God knows what to happen. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see through the flood of tears.

The growling got louder, and there were more sounds like rolling thunder before the noise stopped and only exaggerated panting filled the silence. I closed my eyes then, concentrating on the faraway sound of music from my earbuds tangled in the dead leaves beneath me. A rush of cold air swept through the trees with a whistling sound.

I was shocked to hear a female voice next.

"Edward, let him go."

"What? Alice, I've got to go after him."

"You won't find him. Trust me. She needs you now. She's more important. Look at her."

The sound of crunching leaves grew louder, but I didn't open my eyes.

"Is she hurt? I don't smell blood. I swore I got here in time."

"I think she's in shock. Her mind probably couldn't process what she's seen and shut down. We've got to get her to Carlisle."

I felt myself being lifted off the ground, and the next sensation made me feel like I was flying. My once-hot tears now felt frozen to my cheeks. Even with my eyes closed, I knew we were moving quickly. I could feel the wind whipping past us and feel my hair lashing my cheek. I could perceive Edward all around me, but I didn't know how we were moving so fast.

Edward and Alice spoke little while we… flew? Their words were quiet, too hurried for me to understand.

Sometimes he'd press his lips against my temple and breathe whisper-soft words against my temple—endearments, apologies, a soft melody.

I felt the tears continue to leak from my eyes and the hair come loose from my ponytail before the rapid movement stopped abruptly and outside noises gave way to domestic sounds: a door opening, the soft smell of home, sounds muffled by carpets and stairs.

I clung tighter to my dark knight, unsure of where I was or what was happening. I was placed on something soft, and I felt a cool hand smoothing over my forehead.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. Help is on the way. I swear no one will hurt you."

I concentrated on breathing in and out, on surviving another breath, another heartbeat. I felt Edward's hand in mine, promising me he wouldn't leave, while he and his sister talked.

"Edward, it's clear this wasn't a random meeting. How did he know Bella?"

I felt Edward's thumb brush across the back of my hand. "I don't know."

I wanted to tell them we were all in danger, that I had been stalked for years—hunted—but I couldn't bring my mouth to speak. There was too much for my mind to consider, and the earlier fear and disappointment I'd felt were too real. I just wanted to stay here in my mind and think, to figure out what I was going to do next—to figure out… everything.

I heard a commotion, a door opened, and a new voice joined the discussion.

"Has she said anything?"

"Nothing."

I felt Edward move away slightly before I felt a cool hand on my wrist first and then my eyelids. I wanted to shy away from the flood of light into my cornea, but I couldn't convince my brain to send the rest of my body the right message.

The new voice spoke again. "Alice, get me some warm clothes, Edward, peel back the covers and get me another blanket."

Once again, my body was lifted by strong arms, but they weren't Edward's.

It was several moments before the voice spoke again. "Alice, leave the clothes on the chair. I want the two of you to give us some space, please. Bella is experiencing shock or trauma and needs an IV, and I'd like to talk to her."

I heard a loud snarl and my heart pounded fearfully.

"Edward, please remain calm. You're upsetting her."

The sound stopped abruptly. "Carlisle, please don't send me away."

I heard a sigh above me. "Edward, I'm sorry. I will be careful—I can see what she means to you, but she is my patient now, and if her body is upset, it will make the recovery process slower. Trust me?"

There was no response, simply the sound of a door opening and closing, and then there was silence for a long stretch. I missed Edward's cool palm pressed to mine and the whispered words against my ear, giving me chills. More than anything I wanted to find the strength to call out to him.

But who was Edward really? I had seen him move the same way my would-be attacker had. I heard him growl like a feral animal. And I couldn't ignore his touch as cool and hard as a tombstone.

I felt the panic threaten to take over.

"Bella? Can you hear me? It's Dr. Cullen."

Oh thank God. A doctor.

"Bella, I'm going to give you some Klonopin, alright? You'll just feel a little sting."

I felt his hand, cool like Edward's but more technical, purposeful, at my elbow before I felt the prick of my skin.

Wait. Could I trust this doctor?

As though he could read my mind, the doctor spoke up. I felt cold suddenly from the inside out, and the urge to drift into unconsciousness was overwhelming.

"Bella, I know you've seen things to make you doubt yourself and the world you live in. I know you've seen darkness, evil, but there is good too. _Edward_ is good. We _all_ try to be good, and no harm will come to you in our home. You are safe."

My mind repeated the words over and over in my subconscious like a mantra. _You are safe. You are safe._

The silence returned for an uncertain amount of time. I daydreamed or was in a state of delusion. I saw Keith Blackbird dancing and shaking his turtle shell, and I saw my victims' bodies with their throats torn out and nail marks down their backs like they were trying to run away from their attacker. I saw the man in the forest who told me I smelled good—the same man who brutally murdered my father. And I saw Edward, the way he looked at me that day in the café—dangerous, intimidating. But my mind quickly forced that image out of my head, and I saw the Edward who hovered over me last night.

My name appeared out of the darkness, and I heard Doctor Cullen's voice again.

"… I'm sticking my neck out quite a bit here, but since you've seen too much already, I'm hoping I'm not truly violating law. If I am, I'd rather it be me than Edward, and I'd rather you hear the truth from me than go on suspecting heaven knows what."

It was so strange. He was purposefully being vague, and yet I felt like he trusted me with something very personal.

"Remember, I said that you are one hundred percent safe in this house. I will let no harm come to you. You've been in our presence several times and you've always been safe. Bella, you have seen things today that others assume to be pretend—things that are part of legends and lore. There are good and evil of every kind of creature—human, animal, and…"

_Vampire_.

My mind supplied the word before he could utter it. I had known it since I was a child, but the Cullens thought I was exposed to that reality today. I wasn't as shocked at the actual announcement as I thought I'd be.

So, the Cullens were… _Edward_ was a…

"My family is different than the man you saw today. He wished you harm, but I can assure you that my family isn't like that. Our strength, our compassion, our decency comes from hunting animals—just as mankind does. Life has dealt us an interesting hand, but it doesn't mean that we can't make the most of our situation and do so with respect and honor. We choose to be good and rise above our nature. We choose to have normal lives and live among humans."

So not every vampire hunted humans? It felt strange to even acknowledge the word and to actually consider this predicament. Perhaps it was to lure humans into a sense of false security? It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my ribcage at the doctor's words. My chest felt tight, and I was sure I was beginning to hyper ventilate. Surely Dr. Cullen was a good man, right? If his patients went missing, surely someone would notice? He took the Hippocratic Oath to protect lives, didn't he?

"Be calm, Bella. No harm will come to you. If you would prefer I call an ambulance to take you to a hospital right now, I will do so, but you need care, and I'm sure Edward would be beside himself if you left here. He's sitting outside the door even now."

Edward.

It always seemed to come back to Edward.

I felt some of the tension leave my body. I had been alone with Edward so many times. He could have hurt me at any time, but he didn't. We spent at amazing night together, and I could feel the connection between us. I didn't want to give him up, but could this work?

The only vampire I'd ever known killed my father and was on the lookout for me. I drifted back into unconsciousness with Carlisle's soothing voice relaying the positive attributes of vampires.

~oOo~

I awoke an indeterminate time later in a bedroom that was dimly lit by a lamp on the desk on the far side of the room. I was alone, and I wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. A part of me had hoped that I would awaken to find out everything was a dream and that I was home in bed with Edward. Gazing around the room to ensure I was really on my own, I took note of the details in case I had to describe the room to Newton or the Chief. That was, if I survived my capture.

The room itself was immaculate and beautiful. I was situated beneath several layers of blankets on a large bed with a pale gold comforter. The walls were butter yellow, and the desk across from me was part of a wall-sized bookshelf unit. Upon it were antique knickknacks: old black and white photos, a baseball, a pocket watch and chain beneath a little bell jar, and a silhouette of a woman, among other things. There were also more recent pictures of the Cullens.

The far wall had French doors that led to a large deck that was illuminated by lamps on the posts. The curtains weren't drawn, and I could see that it was dark outside.

An IV pole stood behind me with a heart monitor attached. It was then that I noticed the clip over my index finger registering my pulse and saw the small tube taped to my arm. My eyes traced the path taken by the transparent tubing attached to the needle and followed it to the large bag of clear liquid attached to the IV pole. I shuddered, the liquid in the IV bag was misleading; any number of drugs could have been administered through the line and into my bloodstream. I felt… fine, I guess. Tired maybe, but my mind felt clear.

On the bedside table was my phone.

My heart thudded. I'd left it in my car when I'd gone for my run. Snatching the phone up, I clutched it to my chest. Should I call for help? I tapped the screen bringing it to life. Who would I call? Mike? Ugh, no. He'd probably call in the Swat Team or the FBI. The Chief? 911? And what would I tell them? _"Help! I've been abducted by vampires! They provided me with medical assistance and didn't eat me!"_

Jesus. I'd be committed if they didn't hang up and bill me for a crank call.

And what kind of vampire kidnapper provides someone with the means to rat them out anyway? Maybe what Dr. Cullen had said was true? There were good vampires in the world?

The icon for messages was highlighted on my phone, and I quickly accessed the messages.

_Feel better soon, Bella!_

_Bella, you've been working too hard. Get well!_

_Rest up, Bella!_

Was this it? Is this how my sudden disappearance would be explained after I was ripped apart by bloodthirsty animals? Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I considered my fate and the world I thought I knew.

There was one last text, but I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to read it. I let out a breath and clicked the message.

_Bella, I'm so sorry for what I am. I'm here if you want me_.

Setting the phone down on the table, I curled up on my side, drawing my knees up in a fetal position, and watched my heartbeat on the monitor.

68

66

67

64

_Edward_.

77

79

82

I saw the spikes and dips on the graph not sure what all the wavy lines meant, but there was no denying what my body thought of Edward.

_Bella, I'm so sorry for what I am. I'm here if you want me._

Edward's text played over and over in my head, making me truly consider the words. Should anyone have to apologize for who they were? Did it matter _what_ he was if he strived to be decent, good, and thrive despite the hand he'd been dealt. Was that so awful? Could I get up and walk away from here and move on, forgetting that anything had ever happened between us?

My chest clenched painfully.

So it seems the answer was no.

I wanted him.

I sat up on the edge of the bed, getting my bearings for a few moments. The room pitched and rolled, and I clung tighter to the sheets for support. Looking down, I noticed I was not in my own clothes anymore. I was dressed in a white T-shirt, a track jacket, and a pair of pale grey matching velour track pants—something I never would have bought on my own. I yanked off the pulse oximeter and watched as my heartbeat 'flatlined' on the monitor.

Standing up on shaky legs like a newborn fawn, I took hesitant steps toward the bedroom door. My arms were outstretched like a tightrope walker's, desperate for balance. As I neared the door, the IV in my arm twinged and the tape pulled at the delicate skin at the inside of my elbow. The line was stretched tight between my arm and the bag attached to the pole by the bed. I wiped a hot tear away and swallowed before I grabbed the tube where the small catheter and needle had punctured my arm and yanked. The sting was instantaneous and a thin line of blood trickled down my arm. I felt nauseated as I pressed my right hand over the burning wound and cursed myself for my blatant stupidity. I wanted to make it to the door, but my tumbledown legs refused to hold me another second.

Sinking slowly to the floor, I crawled over to the door and leaned up against it. I breathed loudly, cursing myself for leaving my phone over on the nightstand. I didn't even know what I was doing or where I was going. It's obvious I wasn't going to get far. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, I pressed it to the inside of my elbow, blotting up the blood. An angry bruise was already forming and there was a large red 'X' where the tape had formerly been stuck to my skin. I couldn't have been more stupid if I tried, I literally had an 'X' marks the spot over a leaking vein in a house full of vampires. Was I wrong to want him in this minute? I thumped my head against the door and let Edward's name slip from my lips with a sigh.

It was only a couple of seconds later that movement caught my eye, and I saw Edward vault over the deck. I clapped a hand to my mouth to stifle the gasp aching to get out.

He stood outside the French doors, the lamplight illuminating his wild eyes. We simply stared at each other through the glass before his hand reached out too quickly for the doorknob. I wanted to pinch myself to see if this was real. I wanted time to process what I'd learned because I didn't know how to deal with the news that the world as I knew it wasn't what it seemed.

Edward crossed the threshold cautiously, edging into the bedroom. He never broke eye contact.

"Stop!" I demanded after he closed the door behind him, letting in a rush of cool night air. He froze, not wavering, not blinking, not breathing.

"Bella, I—"

"No," I said, cowering further into the door. "Don't. There is so much in my head—sometimes I want you to talk, sometimes I just want you to listen."

He nodded. "Okay," he acquiesced. "But will you just answer one thing for me? Are you alright, physically, I mean."

He looked concerned, like a real person would and glanced cautiously toward my arm. His eyebrows were raised in expectation, his eyes were intense but sympathetic, and his lips were pressed together in a worried frown.

Was I alright? Would I ever be alright again? My world had tilted on its axis. "I don't know. Am I? I feel okay. Tired, I guess." I knew I was so vulnerable, and I was showing some of my fear by keeping him at a distance, and I could hear the tremor in my voice.

"We weren't sure at first. I thought maybe you were going into shock, but my d—Carlisle said he thought you were experiencing some PTSD, and your brain just had to shut down for a while to protect itself."

"Yeah, I've seen some real fucked up shit lately." I covered my eyes with my bloodied hands and let out a broken sigh. To be honest, I was a little disappointed with myself. I had reverted to a school age child. I'd seen all kinds of trauma on the job in recent years, and I'd been so strong. Why did I have to wuss out now?

Edward interrupted my thoughts. "Bella, I'm so sorry—"

I didn't want pity; that was the one thing I couldn't handle. "So how long have I been out of it?" I intruded, uncovering my eyes. "Overnight?" The last thing time I remembered was a little after noon on Sunday.

Edward hesitated for a moment as though he was unsure what to say. "Um, a little longer actually. It's 5:17a.m. on Wednesday."

_Wednesday?_ "Wednesday? Jesus!" I struggled to try and get up, but I failed miserably, my wobbly legs giving out almost immediately. Edward instantly reached out for me, catching me before I fell.

His hands were wrapped around my ribcage, thumbs pressing against the underside of my breasts, and drew me into the support and protection of his arms. I stared up into his gold eyes and felt an entirely different kind of weak in knees. Memories of the weekend flashed through my mind—the tender way Edward touched me, telling me he wanted to spend more time with me, asking me to trust him.

I cringed a little, extracting myself from his arms by pushing him away. I had gone out on a limb and trusted him, and look where it got me.

The look on his face betrayed his hurt once again, but he gently released me, and I returned to the alcove of the door once again.

"Go sit over there," I ordered, pointing toward the bed.

He retreated so slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Christ," I muttered. "Do I still have a job? Does anyone know where I am right now? Where's my badge, my _gun_?" It was a sickening feeling to have no idea where I was or where my weapon was. There was never a moment in the day when I couldn't account for the whereabouts of either.

"Carlisle called your precinct and told them your appendix ruptured. Your Chief of Police was very concerned, and Carlisle advised him to give you a week or two off to heal. No one specifically knows you are _here_, but the precinct knows you're in Carlisle's care. As for your gun and your badge, we left them secured in your car, which is in our garage."

I shook my head, mumbling under my breath. "This is so fucked up. I want answers, Edward, and I want them now."

Edward looked down at me crouched near the door and nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He no longer seemed like the smooth, confident man I'd come to know in the last few weeks. He looked gutted and kind of like I felt when I realized how _real_ loss was.

I felt guilty, but I pressed on. "I don't even know where to start. My mind is one big clusterfuck right now."

H nodded. "It's okay. Ask whatever comes to mind."

Things were quiet for a moment while I steeled myself to ask the toughest question first. "Is what Dr. C—Carlisle said true? Are you a— Oh my God, I can't even say it! It seems too preposterous!"

Was it though? Hadn't some part of me known there were monsters out there for a very long time? Hadn't I seen and accepted it?

"It's okay," he urged. "Say it out loud."

My throat was dry and tight. I had to whisper the word. "Vampire."

He closed his eyes and his head drooped, dipping between his shoulders. "Yes, to my eternal disappointment."

Inhaling sharply, I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. "Oh, God," I lamented, tucking myself into a little ball. I felt tears stinging my eyes, and I struggled to blink them away.

"Bella, I would never hurt you. Please believe that."

I heard him slide off the bed and onto the floor. Raising my head quickly, I fed the fear and extended my hand. "Please stop. I need the distance."

Edward held up his hands in deference, leaning against the foot of the bed. "Bella, please believe me. Everything I said to you Saturday was the truth. That night meant something to me. I never lied about my feelings for you. I think you're amazing and beautiful. I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't into casual relationships and that I wanted to see a lot more of you. We've been alone a dozen times, and I could have hurt you at any point, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted _you_."

"So you hunt animals?" I spoke over him, ignoring his last reply. I couldn't think about that now or I'd lose my focus. I desperately wanted to dwell on the way his hands brushed my hair away from my face, or the way his fingertips caressed my skin. I wanted to remember him say he'd never hurt me as we huddled up in my little bed-tent Sunday morning, but I still had too many questions.

He didn't look up, merely stared at the beige carpet. Was he ashamed? Did he ever intend to tell me? "Yes."

Though he couldn't see me, I nodded to myself. At least he was confirming what the doctor told me. "And did you ever, you know, hunt… people?"

Did I really want to know the answer to that question? No, but I needed to know.

There was no reply from him for a very long moment, and I knew I had my answer.

"A while ago," came his reply.

I couldn't speak. I trembled _so_ hard. I didn't know where the tremors started. Butterflies beat their wings and crashed into the walls of my stomach with such force that I wasn't sure how I didn't become violently ill. My hands trembled, my legs shook, and my lips quivered. I swallowed until I could find my voice and force my body to calm itself little by little.

"I'm going to ask this one time, and I want the truth. Were you or anyone in this house aware of the murders before this case I'm investigating went live? Does anyone in this house know that man who attacked me in the woods? Were any of you involved in any way?"

Edward slowly raised his head and met my eyes. "No." His voice sounded so clear and sure.

I looked away and furiously wiped the tears that leaked from my eyes. I hated crying, it was a human condition that betrayed your strength, emotion, and control.

"You'll forgive me if I can't believe you with the utmost certainty. It seems I've been told a real whopper of a lie recently," I sniffled.

I looked through my lashes, heavy and thick with moisture and simply watched for his reaction. His shoulders had slumped once again and he cradled his face in his hands. "I don't know how to earn back your trust, Bella, but I'll do anything that you tell me to do."

He removed his hands from his face while I continued to smear the tears with the back of my own hand. He stood then and crossed the room to the bureau on the far side of the bed and pulled open a drawer. I watched curiously and with some semblance of fear. Edward retrieved a white handkerchief before closing the drawer and returning to my side of the room. He approached with extreme caution, taking slow, purposeful steps.

"Here," he said gently, extending a hand. I tried not to shy away from him, but my shoulders slid to the left, further into the little alcove behind the door, and my hands came up and crossed over my chest. My fingers tangled together awkwardly, and nervously, I bit my knuckle.

"I won't hurt you, Bella. I couldn't."

Tentatively, I reached out and took the proffered white square. His index finger trailed down the length of mine in the brief exchange. His touch was just as soft and gentle as it was the night we'd had sex. I shuddered, but I didn't think it was from the chill of his skin. I withdrew my hand and brought the fine linen to my nose. I inhaled shallowly, breathing in the unmistakable scent of Edward. My mind was flooded with a rush of memories: the way my pillows smelled after he left my apartment, the way he said "Good morning," and twirled my hair around his finger, the amazing way I felt about myself as I basked in the afterglow of our surrender to passion. "Thank you," I whispered.

He sat down on the floor again but sat a little closer this time. "Bella, would you believe me if I said that I've considered how I was going to tell you about me from almost the first moment we met?"

I didn't say anything. What could I say? I didn't know the answer myself.

"I'll probably butcher this story if I start anywhere but the beginning. Will you let me start sharing my part of the story?"

I nodded and curled up on the floor on my side. I folded one arm under my head and pressed the handkerchief to my nose again.

"Alright," Edward began, pausing to fist his hair. "Well, I went to the café that first day to catch up on the news and grab a paper. We'd seen your interview on the 11:00 news the night before, and we suspected the killer was a rogue vampire—one that hunts… normal prey and deliberately targets people and is sloppy, leaving behind too many clues. Secrecy is of the utmost importance, but that's another conversation."

Even as I remembered the impromptu interview that night, the strange conversation that was taking place was exhilarating. Like reading a new book, I just wanted him to talk faster, to know all the answers to the questions bouncing around inside my head.

"We began taking interest in the case because though we didn't agree with his dietary choices, we didn't want to attract unnecessary attention either. And, I started taking interest in _you_ too. I saw you on TV and in the papers, and I could see your amazing passion and strength. So when I saw you at the café that day, to say I was delighted was an understatement. Not only could I stare at your beautiful face, but I got to see for myself what a delight you were when you spilled your coffee."

I felt my face flame as I remembered hopping around the patio to avoid the hot liquid and being so embarrassed that the cute guy inside the café was watching me.

"I had been debating coming over to introduce myself when you came into the cafe, and my world changed forever. Not only could I smell the delicious pheromones your body was producing, your… scent called to me like no one else's."

I gasped and felt the return of fear to my body. My heart soared and my muscles tensed, preparing for a flight or fight.

"But even then hurting you was out of the question, so I left, thereby raising your suspicions. I knew what I was, and what I was beginning to feel for you. It wasn't as if I could just out myself and tell you what I am, but I wanted you to know me, and I wanted to know you. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and a good friend finally told me that if I wanted you badly enough I'd have to let you in and show you the real me. So that was my plan, to reveal little pieces of me until somehow I could tell you the biggest secret of all. Everything, Bella, has been in effort to move you toward the truth. I hated keeping that, but I swear that everything else I told you was the truth."

A little part of me wondered if fate had intervened in my life the day I met Edward. I couldn't deny the way he made me feel, even if he was a vampire. Maybe the universe introduced us the best way it knew how.

"So who is Edward Cullen?" I whispered, drawing my knees up into the fetal position. "I mean, from what I know," I paused and licked my lips steeling myself to say the word, "vampires are made, not born."

So slowly, he stretched out to mimic my position on the floor, but maintained his distance. "I was born Edward Anthony Masen in Chicago in 1901. I had a normal life until my family became ill during the Spanish Flu outbreak in 1918. I had been hoping to join the army and go off to France to find glory in the World War, but I never recovered. My parents died, and Carlisle found me in the hospital near death and decided to change me. He'd never changed anyone before, and it wasn't an easy decision for him—or an easy reality for me. But I accepted his philosophies and his moral compass and I hunted animals too."

I listened with rapt attention to the story of his life.

"Carlisle met Esme shortly after me, and they've been together since. Carlisle saved Rose and Emmett in the ' 30s. He hoped Rosalie and I would pair up, but that was never meant to be. We're too alike and dissimilar in all the right and wrong ways. She and Emmett were a done deal as soon as they saw one another. Alice and Jasper had their own history, and they found us in the 1950s."

He spoke so casually, as though anyone could understand this kind of history, time scale. I couldn't imagine living more than a hundred years, and yet to him, it must seem like the blink of an eye. Did vampires age, did they ever die? If they never died then they could never leave anyone they loved behind.

Edward took a breath and paused, looking at me with imploring eyes. "Shortly after they joined us, I left. Everyone was a matched set except for me, and I couldn't take it anymore. I traveled around and hunted humans during that time. I resented Carlisle for limiting me and denying me a vampire's true prey. I engaged in all kinds of debauchery."

He looked away, guilty. I could tell he was ashamed and worried about my reactions, but at the same time, I could understand, in a way. Everyone felt sorry for the gazelle when a lioness took it down, but when she dragged its carcass back to mewling and hungry cubs, it didn't seem so bad. Everything has to eat, right? I wanted to urge Edward on, but I didn't know how.

"So, I hunted humans, but I justified my slayings by hunting down murderers, rapists, child molesters, and other scum from humankind's gutters. After a decade, I felt empty, dark. I felt all that negative energy I'd consumed trapped inside my body, so I returned to Carlisle and his way of life. It hasn't been easy to be alone, but I feel better."

My heart stuttered, and I felt immense pity for the man in front of me. Maybe he was a lost kid just like I was. And in our own way, we sort of shared a common interest—ridding the world of evil-doers.

"How did you know they were bad?" I found myself asking. "How did you track them down?"

He sighed again. "Well, that brings me to my other big reveal—far less scary than the first. When a human becomes a vampire they often bring in their most predominant trait—compassion, beauty, or in my case the ability to read people. That translated into the ability to read minds." He smiled for the first time and through that one gesture the whole conversation seemed to lighten. "Well, most anyway."

Wait. What? "H-how?" I wondered, not sure I wanted him to know what I had been thinking in his presence.

He shrugged. "No idea. Vampirism just seems to heighten many abilities. I woke up from my change and began to hear the thoughts of those around me. I thought I was going crazy at first, but Carlisle and I figured it out quite quickly. There is a snag, however."

I raised my eyebrows, urging him to continue and I tried not to think of anything, but that only made me wonder what I shouldn't be thinking of, and my mind quickly descended into the gutter.

"You," he answered simply. "I can read everyone's mind but yours. I have no idea why, but I've tried to no avail. I figured it out the first day, and I've wished a million times that I could know what you were thinking." His smile was soft, almost sad.

Was I relieved? Maybe. I certainly wasn't anything special, so did that mean something was wrong with me? Why couldn't Edward read my mind? Did it mean he didn't feel the same connection between us that I did? "Why?" I demanded, perhaps a little too strongly.

He held my gaze for a long moment and studied me, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. "I don't know. You must be special."

He paused thoughtfully, and his voice was softer when he began again. "You've been alone a long time, Bella. Maybe you have to let someone in. I'd really like for it to be me."

I sniffled. He was right. I shut myself away since my parents and my gran died. The few friendships I made through college, I let expire. My only real friend now was Angela, and I often kept her at arm's length. I hadn't had a relationship with a man since… well… maybe ever. Any hopes I had in a relationship always turned into a one night stand after I inevitably divulged information about who I was or the importance of my job. No one wanted to stick around. But Edward wanted in. He said so on Saturday, and was reiterating it now. I wanted to say yes, but it went against every human instinct I had. I had seen a vampire rip into my father and steal his life in one savage bite. How could I trust Edward?

"How do I trust you? You're a vampire! What does that mean for us? What does that mean for me?" My voice broke as I whispered aloud my next question. "Do I have to become one too?"

Fat tears rolled down my cheeks. I wasn't entirely sure why I was crying—was I in fear for my life? Was I afraid this would become my fate against my will? Or was I afraid to take that step and trust Edward with my heart?

"Oh, Bella," Edward began softly, looking me in the eye. "You don't have to do anything. I told you Saturday, I was weird too and unfamiliar with relationships. Let's not worry about labels. You be Bella, and I'll be Edward. I wouldn't ever hurt you. I'll be your vampire, and you can be my human."

He extended a hand and laid it down, palm up, on the expanse of carpet between us. "Trust me," he implored with a whisper.

My lips trembled, and I tasted salty tears as my unsteady fingers shook while I reached out very slowly to place my hand in his.

* * *

Author's Note: Epic thanks to my beta, duskwatcher2153. And thanks to ravenclawamber and her friend Lissy for the support and medical advice. 3

Happy Halloween! A nice scary chapter for you today. ;-) I hope everyone has a frightfully fun night. What are you dressing up as for Halloween?

Song Rec for this chapter has to be "The Sharpest Lives" by My Chemical Romance.

November is NaNoWriMo, and I'm using that 'deadline' to finish this fic. If you want to 'friend' me, check progress, cheer me on, whatever, your support is super appreciated. Look me up under i_was_broken, or I'll post the link on my profile. Thanks, all. 3


	17. Too Far Gone

_In chapter 16 Bella spent the night with Edward, went for a run in the park and was attacked by James, and learned the truth about vampires from Carlisle. Initially a little fearful, she finally let Edward comfort her._

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When I awoke some time later, it was light, but the curtains were drawn in the bedroom. My mind swam with the cloudy dregs of slumber, and my face felt puffy and hot. I let my eyes flutter open and relived the moments from last night wondering if it had been a dream. After I had taken Edward's hand, we laid together in the silence for some time. His cool fingers had caressed mine softly, divulging an underlying heat simmering under the surface of words left unsaid and in flashes of heated, passionate memories from several nights before. I had confessed how tired I was even as the room was growing lighter, and Edward encouraged me to sleep, promising to watch over me.

I swallowed thickly and took in the gold bedroom again, remembering I was at the Cullen house and this was not a dream at all. I remained bundled up in the blankets and the silence for several minutes, waking slowly until I spied Edward in my peripheral. I jumped slightly, startled to find him in the in the darkest corner of the room, sitting on a chair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Good afternoon," he breathed. His voice was hesitant, and his gold eyes were wide and cautious, afraid of scaring me.

"Hi," I replied, my own voice thick with sleep.

His eyes quickly shifted to the alcove behind the door—the last place I remember being. "I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to see you sleeping on the floor. I moved you to my bed."

I finally had some little tidbit of information about where I was. I felt a comfort in knowing I was in Edward's space, but I felt bad for putting him out.

"Thank you," I issued, rolling onto my side to face him, folding my hands under my head. "I feel bad for stealing your bed. Don't you need to…?"

I paused. Weren't vampires supposed to sleep in coffins or something all night?

He smiled gently, and I seriously doubted his inability to read my thoughts for a moment. "No. I don't sleep at all."

"Oh," I said stupidly. "So are you not a… um… traditional vampire then?"

He smiled a little more genuinely. "There's nothing traditional about me, Bella."

I had no real idea what that meant. I only had stereotypes to go on. "What about garlic, reflections in mirrors, and stakes through the heart?"

"Those are all myths too."

I filed all this info into the 'These-things-are-too-fucked-up-to-think-about' box. I was quickly confused again. If all these stereotypes were myths, how did the stories get started in the first place? Carlisle mentioned hunting animals, is that how vampires… ate? I thought they drank blood. Wasn't that an essential part of being a vampire? "Why you didn't eat breakfast at my apartment Sunday morning? I mean, if all these stories are myths. What do you eat?"

He stared at me for a long moment, gauging my reaction. He was right to. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his answer. "Your heart is beating too fast. Try to calm down. I promise, I've only had animal blood for longer than you've been alive. I don't eat human food."

The double entendre of his statement wasn't lost on me. I was only mildly relieved to hear him admit it. I was now hung up on another new revelation.

"You can hear my heart over there?" I asked, stunned.

"Every beat," he answered, looking directly in my eyes. "I could probably hear it out on the highway, and Saturday night I picked your rhythm out of the crowded ballroom too. I can smell every response of your body as well."

I mentally cringed as I thought back to every time I'd needed a panty change in his presence and fought down the urge to simply throw him down and molest him. Ugh, I was going to have to exercise supreme control of myself every time I was around him.

We were silent then, but he never ceased his observation of me. I stretched again, raising my hands above my head, pushing against the pillows. "Can I get up for a while? I'm tired of lying here."

He rose from the chair and slowly came around to the other side of the bed. "Please let me help? Carlisle said you'll probably feel weak for a couple days. You need to start eating and drinking on your own or the IV goes back in. Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"Not right now. I could go for a human minute though? And then maybe is it nice enough to step outside? I'd like some fresh air." I gestured outside to the wrap-around patio behind the drawn curtain.

"Okay," he relented, shyly extending a hand to me. He smiled gently, cautiously, all the hope in the world hiding in those shimmering gold eyes.

I tossed the heavy covers back and carefully sat up, not wanting to get lightheaded and end up back in the confines of the bed. I took Edward's hand and returned his smile. I stood up on shaky legs like a newborn fawn, timid, wanting to be ever-nearer to someone I trusted.

Lacing my fingers through Edward's, I slowly shuffled around the end of the bed and let him lead me to the en-suite bathroom. It was horribly embarrassing to know he was outside the door and able to hear everything, but when you've gotta go, you've gotta go. They had been kind enough to leave out some toiletries, for which I was grateful. I brushed my teeth and hair, and finally I took a moment to splash some cold water on my face. It helped to clear away some of the cobwebs from my mind. Only hours ago I learned the man I'd slept with was a vampire, but the more I thought about it, the less it seemed to matter. We had forged a connection upon our first meeting. Before a word had ever been exchanged between us, his smile had captured my heart. Although I didn't fully understand the world he was a part of, it didn't change the fact of who Edward was. I felt safe, happy, and cared for in his presence, and even now that I knew the truth about him, I wanted to be with him. There would be more truths to reveal but I wanted to hear him out. I had been angry last night, but much of my anger was because I had been lied to. I felt silly and worried that my feelings were unreturned by an entity that I didn't understand. Yes, I jumped to horrible conclusions about Edward, but the fear was only a small part of what I felt. As long as he continued to be forthcoming, I would hold out a hesitant hope that our feelings for one another were valid despite what we were.

Edward was waiting outside the door with the chenille throw blanket from the foot of the bed tossed over his outstretched arm.

"There's one more thing I have to tell you," he admitted, his eyes sliding toward the curtain over the window as we shuffled slowly toward the French doors.

"What now?" I teased. "Will you turn into a bat? Evaporate into a puff of smoke?"

He picked up on my tone and the corner of his mouth hitched up into a sly smirk. "No, those myths are busted too, but I might sparkle a little in the sunlight."

Perhaps it should have been the most absurd thing he'd told me, but my mind quickly pulled three memories from the 'These-are-too-fucked-up-to-think-about' box. I remembered the mylar balloon caught in the tree in Forks, which sparked an even older memory—the vampire's skin shimmering the day on the boat. He'd sparkled Sunday too, when a shaft of light broke through the clouds. I looked back at Edward, imagining the faint glimmer over his own skin.

"I know," I answered. "I have some secrets too."

His eyes widened in surprise, but I turned away, grabbing the curtains and threw them back, letting the light flood in the gold bedroom.

The sky was slightly overcast in a faint shade of grey. I instantly looked down to see if the exposed skin on Edward's wrist where the sleeve of his shirt exposed his smooth forearm. It didn't sparkle per se, but it seemed luminescent, as though lit from within.

I hated to admit that it was cool, but it kind of was. And pretty.

I turned the doorknob and shambled out onto the oak deck. It was shockingly cold to my bare feet, making me remember the hard wood floors of the house in Forks before dad would get up and turn up the heat in the morning. I stood at the railing, my fingers curling over the edge, steadying myself. I turned my face toward the sky and took a deep breath, feeling the cool air rush into my lungs. I was about to thank Edward for bringing me out, but I felt weak suddenly. My knees began to tremble, and I felt dizzy.

"I think I need to—" I was about to say "sit down" when my feeble knees finally buckled, and I began to sink toward the decking. Edward reached out immediately, scooping me up into his arms.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed by my lack of stamina. Where was the girl who ran 10k's?

"It's okay. Your sugar is just too low, and you took a shallow breath. Let's sit for a minute."

He carried me over to a row of teak Adirondack chairs along the length of the house near the doors. He placed me gently on the lounger and took the afghan from me, draping it across my lap. I was touched by his concern.

"Stay put, I'm going to get you something to eat."

Though there was a set of stairs at one end of the deck, Edward jumped over the side. I scooted quickly to the end of the chair, listening, waiting for some kind of landing. I remembered him making the unbelievable leap up and over the deck some time during the night and realized that despite assuring me that garlic couldn't harm him and that he didn't sleep in coffins, I realized he still had a few surprises up his sleeves. Maybe he was like Superman after all.

I gazed around the Cullen property while I waited for Edward to return. It was beautiful here, peaceful and removed enough from the city that one wouldn't know Rochester existed at all. The trees circled the manicured lawn, closing us off and causing me to shudder. The forest would take on a different feeling for a while, until I was brave enough to go back in.

I heard the sound of doors shutting on the main level of the house and, although I'd seen it before, I jumped when Edward vaulted over the second story railing. I clasped my hands over my heart, making an effort to keep my body calm. I had someone who could hear it when my body lost control now.

"I'm sorry," he issued, instantly slowing down, moving toward me at a more measured pace. "I wanted to hurry."

I ducked my head and bit my lip to avoid smiling as I took the proffered buttered toast and juice.

"Eat slowly. If it agrees with you, Carlisle said you could try some soup next."

Turning, I sat side-saddle on the long chair and took a small bite of the perfectly golden brown toast. It crunched noisily, and I wondered if it sounded like a jack hammer to him. I was about to ask, but when I looked up, he was standing there awkwardly, just staring.

"You're freaking me out. Sit down and relax or something." I eyed the empty space next to me and inclined my head, hinting he should take a seat. "I won't bite. Will you?"

He smirked a little and moved slowly toward the chair, easing himself into the open space next to me. "Only if you want me to, Detective."

Should I be turned on by a statement like that? And what happened to that pact that I made with my body not to get aroused around him anymore? I squeezed my thighs together and hoped he'd never know, but the way he licked his bottom lip told me he knew only too well.

"Um, is that how it works?" I asked, desperate to draw the attention away from the body that betrayed me. "The vampire thing, I mean?" I took a sip of juice and looked over the rim of the glass at him.

He swallowed. "Let's not worry about that. I'd much rather hear about why you know vampires sparkle in the sunlight."

And now it was time to share my big secret. I blew out a breath and felt the familiar panic rise up inside me at the thought of my father's death. I clenched my teeth and steeled myself to find some strength and resolve. "I, um, told you that I lost my father when I was little. We were out fishing in Forks. But what I didn't tell you was that it was a vampire that took his life right in front of me, and I have no doubt I was next."

I took a large bite of toast, more to have something to do than out of actual hunger. I chewed slowly, hoping Edward would speak. I was too scared to actually look over at him, but I knew he hadn't moved.

"It really wasn't that big of a surprise to me when your d—Dr. Cullen told me the truth about all of you. I was scared of course, because I'd seen firsthand what a vampire could do, and I knew I would be unable to put up a fight. I don't even think it that big of a surprise to see you race in to save me. That didn't upset me."

I slid my hand over and hooked my little finger around Edward's to let him know I wasn't against what he was. How could I be afraid of this man who seemed so willing to put my worth and care above his own?

"What upset you?" he asked suddenly, his voice a little lower, tenser.

I squeezed his finger and dropped my voice to a whisper. "The vampire I saw on Sunday—the man in the woods, James,—he was the one that killed my dad."

Edward jumped up and fisted his hair as he began pacing rapidly. I couldn't bear to watch him, the movement was too blurred. I stared down into the half-empty glass of orange juice.

"Are you sure, Bella?" he asked, dropping to his knees right in front of me. "Human memories are fragile, temporary, and able to be compromised."

Unshed tears glossed over my eyes as I looked up at him. "Yeah, I'm sure. Trust me, that man has haunted my dreams for almost twenty years. He's the reason I became a cop—I wanted to put away the man who ended my dad's life."

I set my juice and half-eaten toast down on the deck and quickly swiped at the hot tears cresting over my cheeks.

Edward stepped over the chair, straddling it as he sat down. His hand slipped around my shoulder, rubbing gently. "Bella, I'm so sorry," he whispered, leaning in to rest his forehead against my temple. His lips brushed against my ear, and I shivered involuntarily.

My body sagged and rested against the side of his, and he cradled my body close. "It's okay," he breathed.

I knew I should be scared, I knew I should resist and reject his touch, but I simply could not summon any will to push him away when the only thing I wanted to do was pull him closer. I nudged him toward the back of the chair and curled up within the safety of his arms.

He continued to rub my back in soothing circles and drew the afghan around my body. My fingers fisted the front of his shirt, and I closed my eyes, breathing him in.

Edward let me have my moment before he spoke again. "I'm sorry to make you relive memories you'd rather forget, but I need to know. What made the vampire leave you alive when you were a girl?"

I felt my face scrunch up as I remembered the great grey wolf that launched itself through the air and fought with the vampire. The growling and snarling had been so loud I'd pressed my hands over my ears to try and muffle the noise. I tried to tell Billy that day about the big animal, but he hadn't believed me. His simple and profound denial caused me to question myself, but I knew it was true.

"Don't laugh," I prefaced, unable to look at him. "It was a dog—a wolf. A huge one. I mean really huge, not simply larger than life in my memory because it rescued me. I'm not romanticizing my hero. It had to be as big as my mom's old mini-van. When it ran, it sounded like thunder. He scared that James guy off, and he seemed legitimately terrified." I drifted off in my memories for a moment before Edward rubbed my back again and brought me back to the present. "I was in a boat on a fast-moving river. I hid under the seat and floated downstream. I never saw it again."

We were quiet for some time; the only sounds were our breathing. My head still rested on Edward's chest, and I couldn't hear the familiar 'lub-dub' of a beating heart. I wondered if mine was loud enough for the both of us. I still had so many questions about the vampire thing. Was he alive? He existed, yes, or at least I hoped he wasn't some figment of my imagination. But there was no heartbeat thumping inside his chest. He breathed, but there were times since our meeting that I swore he wasn't. And then there was the most important thing, for me anyway. If Edward was over one hundred years old, could vampires die? Would he live forever? I couldn't lie, I loved the idea that he couldn't leave me behind. I'd been in that position before, and I had no intention of being deserted again.

When the silence became unbearable, I finally blurted out one of the questions that had been nagging away at me. "So, do you think I'm crazy?" My story seemed far-fetched to my rational mind, even more so admitting it out loud. Would he think the same?

He immediately started rubbing my shoulder again. "No, no. Just thinking. I thought all the worlds' werewolves had been hunted to extinction. There must be a pocket or two left. I'll have to ask Carlisle."

I shook my head slightly. "Naturally, there are werewolves too. What's next, witches, fairies?" I didn't wait for his answer. I don't think I really wanted to know. "At times it feels like my whole perception of the world has changed overnight and sometimes it seems like it's something I've always known."

He stroked my chin with the knuckle of his index finger and tilted my face up toward his. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, his mouth mere inches from mine. His sweet, cool breath fanned over my face, causing me to lean in even closer. "I know your understanding of this world is so new, and I keep exposing you to more and more of it, but I feel so comfortable around you, Bella. I've wanted to show you the real me for so long."

"Show me," I whispered against his lips.

His own lips were tentative at first, measured with control and pressing gently against mine. His hands slowly moved to tangle in my hair, and I hoped he would hold me fast to him. "Bella," he sighed, tearing his lips away from mine before kissing a path of closed-mouth kisses across the apple of my cheek to my temple. "You're too weak, too tired," he protested half-heartedly, continuing to nuzzle my cheek.

"Not _that_ tired," I countered, shifting onto my stomach, my body stretched out the length of his. Nudging his nose with mine, I couldn't help but notice the ways his body was responding to mine. I could feel his increased respiration, and I could feel an even more obvious reaction below the belt. I had no idea what his intentions were, but his hands traveled down the length of my spine and smoothed past the waist of my pants causing me to squirm in anticipation. My tongue darted out to wet my lips moistening his inadvertently in the process. His reaction was immediate. He groaned softly before fusing his lips to mine as he palmed my ass.

I could feel his erection straining against the front of his jeans, and the pressure of his hands on my backside provided a wonderful tension as my hips pressed against his.

Tasting his icy-cool breath had me licking at the seam of his lips, begging for entrance and hoping to tempt him into taking things further. Caught up in his beauty, his passion, it was disturbingly easy to forget or ignore he was a vampire—one who had wanted to take my life only weeks ago; one who I had given myself to only a few nights before.

One I'd give myself to again in a heartbeat.

I tore my lips away from his with an audible pop and pushed against his chest to distance myself slightly, looking down at that beautiful mouth of his.

"Why don't you have fangs?" I blurted out, the thought suddenly jumping to the forefront of my mind. "Or do you?"

Edward froze, seemingly stunned. "Um, no. Is that really what you want to talk about right now?"

I watched as his mouth annunciated every sound, the way his teeth peaked out as he said certain words, waiting, almost expecting to see a flash of something jagged in those pearly whites.

"No," I admitted, leaning in slowly, prolonging the moment to press my lips to his once again. I kissed him until my lips were swollen, slightly sore, and chilled to the point where I had to stop my teeth from chattering. I was lightheaded again, and he pressed one final tight-lipped kiss to my cupid's bow before clutching my face between his hands.

"Enough. As much as I want more, you can't handle it."

I rested my head on his chest, panting.

"How are you feeling?" He wondered aloud, smoothing down my hair.

I sighed. Could I admit that I was far too keyed up and left with a serious case of blue ovaries? Never had dry humping seemed like such an amazing idea. I knew he wasn't asking about my sexual well-being, however.

"Um, okay, I guess. Tired, but I don't know why. I've been sleeping for days." I closed my eyes for a moment and nuzzled my cheek on the front of his shirt.

His hand stroking my hair was so soothing, so tender, so… perfect. This was the kind of affection I'd longed for my whole life. Was this normal? Were all good relationships like this? Was it way too early to feel this wonderful?

"That's because it's not really sleep. Come on, let's go inside. You rest a while."

I knew he was right, and I didn't want to admit it. Begrudgingly, I tossed back the chenille throw draped over my body and prepared to get up. I was surprised when Edward rose and scooped me up from the chair all in one smooth motion.

"I think I can walk that far you know," I hinted, indicating to the French doors only a few feet away.

Edward paused, looking at me curiously, almost as if the thought never occurred to him. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

I thought about it for a split second as I felt the security of his arms around me, cradling me close. "No," I admitted sheepishly, resting my head on his shoulder.

We returned to the beautiful golden bedroom, and he gently deposited me on the bed before he took care of my dishes from the deck and closed the doors and the blinds again.

I settled myself into the soft mattress and pulled the comforter up to my chin. Edward lingered at the foot of the bed with his hands tucked loosely in his jeans pockets. He was too far away, and I wanted to reassure him that I wanted him closer. I felt so vulnerable and awkward. "Will you stay until I fall asleep? I don't want to be alone."

He moved slowly toward the chair he'd occupied when I'd first awakened.

"No, closer," I pleaded, eying the large expanse of mattress on either side of me.

"You're perfectly safe here, you know. My family likes you, and they want to get to know you. They'd never—"

"I know," I said, surprised to believe what I was saying. "That isn't why I want you close."

Edward carefully climbed onto the bed and relaxed against the headboard, crossing his legs at his ankles.

I shifted to get closer, resting my head on his chest, wrapping my arm around his waist. "I-is this okay?"

"So much more than okay, Bella," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. His hand slowly trailed up and down the length of my arm. The contact, the connection, felt amazing.

"Is this ever difficult for you? Being this close, I mean?" I wondered how Edward had gone from wanting to eat me for breakfast to serving me breakfast in bed after only a couple weeks.

"Sometimes," he confessed, his voice sounding far away. "You can't imagine how irresistible you are—every part of you, but I'm finding that with every moment I spend with you, every little glimpse into your soul, you're worth it. The pain, the discomfort, is minimal in comparison to the thought of not seeing you. Just a little mind over matter."

I could only tilt my face up and stare at him. I knew I was playing with fire in regard to my heart, but I was quickly willing to be consumed. I reached up slowly and traced my index finger down the smooth column of his throat. He swallowed reflexively when I got to his Adam's apple. I hated the idea that I was causing him pain, but I didn't think I could stay away from him even if my life depended on it. And it very well might.

"I don't like not seeing you either," I admitted, battling with myself as to whether or not I should say more. In the end, I didn't want to embarrass myself or scare him away, so I curled my fingers under the collar of his t-shirt and re-settled myself.

"I'm terribly afraid I'm rapidly forming an addiction to you, Bella. Something intense and unwavering. That mind over matter has quickly turned into something akin to tolerance. A little isn't enough anymore. I want more and more. I've never found myself in a situation like this before. I've never felt this way, and I'm finding myself struggling with it more than I anticipated. It's difficult for… something like me to let you be independent. I know you value it immensely, but I feel so protective of you. I want to take you away from here and hole up with you someplace where no one can find us—human or vampire. It's hard to let you be brave and do your job when I desperately want to do what nature has taught me."

I didn't know what to say or where to start. Did he feel the way I did? Should I keep my mouth shut and sit back like a scared wallflower, or grow a set for once and admit to myself, to _him_, that I wanted something? The steadfast fear of rejection, of abject loneliness, seemed abated for now. Not gone completely, but crouching, waiting in some darker corner of my mind. Edward had extended himself so much in the last twenty four hours. I had been groomed to tell when people were lying, and I didn't think he had any motive to lie now.

"I—" I sat up a little, looking down at him, nearly speechless due to the butterflies swarming riotously in my stomach.

"Bella, it's okay if you don't feel the same way. Don't feel like you have to say anything at all. I know you said relationships were new to you, but—"

Pressing a finger to his lips, I silenced him. "Shut up," I whispered, tracing his lip line, feeling him smile against my fingertip. "I've never found myself in a situation like this either, and just because I don't know what I'm doing, that doesn't mean that I don't want you—desperately. I can't stop thinking of you, and I don't want to. I could say I wasn't terrified on multiple levels, but it would be a lie. I'm beyond scared, but I hope you'll still be here with me."

He grew serious suddenly, taking my hand between both of his, and his gold eyes flamed with intensity. "Bella, I'm going to keep you safe. I will not let James hurt you. The family is all committed to seeing this through."

Raising our joined hands, I pressed my lips to his cool skin. "I know, and I appreciate all of your help. I'm scared for myself, for all of you, and I won't lie. I'm scared because I'm the closest I've ever been to solving the one murder that means the most to me, and I couldn't stop anyone else from dying at his hand. I'm so close, and yet I don't know what to do now. I know I can't lock a vampire up…" I let my thoughts and voice fade away before I amended it with a whisper. "And those aren't the only reasons I'm afraid."

"Bella, we'll talk about the investigation and how we could help later after you've rested, but what else are you scared of?"

Turning away from him, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my chin on my knees. I faced the book shelf unit opposite the bed, my eyes jumping from photo to photo and lingering over the artifacts that gave Edward a history—a place in the world. I didn't have that kind of history with anyone, I had no roots, but could I make some with Edward? Could a vampire and a human have a life together? Was it possible, or were we doomed from the start? Would he want that?

"I'm afraid of losing you… pushing or scaring you away. Can a human and a vampire even do… this?" I gestured wildly between us, feeling the panic rise up inside me.

"Bella," he said in a soft voice, capturing one of my hands in his and smoothed the other over my face. "Shh. That's not going to happen. I won't lie, a relationship is going to be tough, but as I understand it what relationship isn't? There will be days I can't be seen with you if it's sunny, I must be ever mindful of how I touch you, and I might have to hunt more frequently for a while, but you're worth it. I keep worrying _you're_ going to run away screaming. After your past experiences, I wouldn't blame you one bit, you have no reason to trust me." He paused, sitting up next to me and taking my chin in his hand, gently turning my face toward his. He swallowed and smiled the sweetest, most genuinely soft smile. "There's so much I want to tell you about how I feel, about how vampires experience relationships, but not right now. Now you need to rest."

His hands trailed down my arms before he gently pried my hands away from my legs. He resumed his earlier position on the bed and pulled me down with him. I settled my head on his shoulder and let my eyes fall closed with a sigh. Just when the conversation was beginning to get interesting, he wanted me to rest. What did he mean 'how vampires experience relationships'? How did they? I hooked my finger through the belt loop on his jeans, and I heard and felt him laugh against my head pressed to his chest.

"What are you doing?"

I refused to open my eyes and see him laughing at me. "Ensuring you stay, for a little while at least."

I jumped when he pressed his lips to my cheekbone; I hadn't felt him move at all. "Oh, my silly girl. I won't leave you."

I bit my lip and smiled, playing his words from this most recent conversation over and over in my head, trying not to be excited, trying not to expect too much. I knew it was futile, I was too far gone.

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_**Author's Note: **_Many, MANY thanks to duskwatcher2153 for the beta and circa1918 for the advice. You make me want to be a better writer. Go read their work, you won't regret it.

Hi all. :-) I just learned this week that I was nominated for a Best WIP Award over at Rob Attack Fan Fiction Fridays. I'm beyond thrilled. Thank you to whomever nominated me. To say you've made my life is an understatement. If you are so inclined to vote for me, you can vote here: kwiksurveys DOT com/app/showpoll DOT asp?qid=55916&sid=bw70jnzqfz4cubs55916&new=True

You just need to add the prefix on the front and replace the DOTs with .

I will also post a link in my profile. You can google Rob Attack Fan Fiction Fridays and find the link too. There are a couple different categories. Vote quick! Polls close December 21st. I have some stiff competition, but if I win I promise to do something nice for all of you in the form of an outtake or something. Thanks, lovelies.

So what did you think of BD2? Favorite parts? Which film is your fave and why?

And if we don't see one another again before the December holidays, I hope you have a wonderful time with your friends and family if you celebrate. I hope 2013 brings you nothing but happiness.


	18. 18 Surrender the Night

_Summary of the last chapter or two: Bella was out jogging when she was surprised by James. She went into shock when she learned he was the vampire who killed her father and was taken to the Cullens to recuperate. She found out the truth about vampires and the Cullens from Carlisle. In the last chapter Bella reconnected with Edward after learning he's a vampire and let him take care of her following her illness._

_And... we're back to hearing from **Edward** for this chapter!_

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Carlisle sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Edward, if this James has been tracking Bella for years, it's clear he's willing to wait us all out. I think we have to act quickly and be vigilant."

I couldn't agree more. "Yes, and I want someone with Bella whenever she isn't on duty or in her office. If I could be with her twenty-four seven without attracting more attention to her, I would."

He nodded with an understanding expression painted on his face. I didn't have to tell Carlisle what Bella meant to me. He just understood. He would do anything for Esme and knew I would do anything for Bella. I couldn't imagine a better man, spouse, or vampire to try and emulate.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves, sending a cascade of them fluttering down on the deck. I heard the water shut off in my ensuite bathroom where Bella was showering. Alice had offered to help her, and I was thankful. I wasn't sure I could behave myself if confined in the small space with her naked body and all that hot water holding her scent in every molecule.

Carlisle shifted his attention toward the door that led inside to my bedroom, and he noted that he should examine Bella this morning, but I knew what was really occupying his mind—and mine—The Volturi.

Knowing Bella would come looking for me any moment, I offered one more comment on the matter. "You would think if James is so messy, the Volturi would be watching him." My thoughts drifted off to territory I didn't want to voice aloud. "Should we—"

"No." Carlisle was rarely that emphatic. "We're already pushing it. Between the size of our family now, and Bella knowing the truth, I don't want Aro or the rest of the guard here. It could mean certain—Bella, good afternoon."

I turned quickly, finding her leaning in the doorway. The fact that that I hadn't heard her approach betrayed how occupied my mind really was.

"Hi, Dr—Carlisle. Edward." She kept her distance for a moment as she looked down at the decking, but she sighed, pasting a smile upon her face and took a step closer. "I, um, hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Carlisle reacted casually, as though she hadn't interrupted a conversation that literally dealt with life and death. The hormonal teenage part of myself struggled to get my body under control. I could never forget how stunningly beautiful she was, but seeing her again after even a few minutes absence made me realize my memory did not do her justice. It was easy to forget the serious nature of my conversation with Carlisle when I looked at the beauty and innocence that came naturally to her expression. As I tried to breathe, move, or say something, Carlisle spoke up. "Not at all, dear. Do you mind if I give you a quick checkup?"

Bella shrugged. "Okay."

He was every bit the dedicated doctor with an amazing bedside manner. "Good, I'll just get my bag."

He jogged at a human pace just as the wind gusted again. Bella stood at the threshold, quirking her brow at my father. Perhaps she was curious as to why he didn't dash away at vampire speed. As always, I wished I could read her mind and know what she was thinking.

Impossible to resist her, I walked over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling deeply, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling the bouquet rattle through my dry lungs, filling them with warmth and meaning. Hi."

"Hi," she breathed.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked, taking her hands in mine.

She gave my hands a little squeeze, and the sensation felt so human, so intimate. "Yes, thank you. Too well, I don't even remember waking up during the night. I feel much better today." I wondered if she really felt as good as she claimed or if she was just being tough. Hopefully Carlisle could tell. "Did you stay with me long? I'm sorry I slept so late."

I took a step closer, abandoning her fingers to caress her cheeks. Her skin warmed my palms. "All night, I promise. I only left a few minutes before you awoke," I confessed, letting my thumbs graze the apple of her cheek. "And don't apologize, you needed the rest."

"Does Carlisle really need his doctor's bag?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, if you can hear my heartbeat from across the room and smell my blood…" Her voice trailed off in speculation as a smirked graced her lips.

Chuckling, I tapped her nose. "Right you are. I think it was his way of giving us a moment of privacy, though the instruments are still particularly useful, and we vampires do like our leftover human habits."

Bella took a step closer, grasping the fluttering hem of my T-shirt. "Okay, go back to that moment of privacy stuff. I think I like that better."

I couldn't help but laugh again and leaned down to rest my forehead against hers. She exhaled and smiled, relaxing into my touch. I couldn't help but marvel at her willingness to let me touch her, the amount of trust she put in me. I had known that she would be terrified upon the revelation that I was a vampire, but I had no idea that one of the people she loved most was brutally killed by one. At that point, I thought I stood absolutely no chance with her and that this renaissance of my existence was over before it had even really begun. But I was wrong, some part of her could understand, could forgive, and she had the amazing ability to trust me and put her life in my hands.

I pressed my lips quickly to her skin before drawing her back toward my bedroom. "Let's get you back inside. It's chilly today." I wished I could say I was only looking out for her well-being, but her accelerated heartbeat and erect nipples had me experiencing an erection of my own. I wanted her desperately, but now was not the time.

I ushered her back inside the bedroom, closing up the deck behind us. Carlisle reappeared, knocking gently on the bedroom door before walking in with his unnecessary doctor's bag.

Bella flopped down on the end of the bed, and Carlisle sent me a sideways glance.

"_I'm not doing a full exam, but I still think you should ask if she wants you to stay. It's only polite."_

He was right, and I hated to admit it. "Bella, do you want me to step out?"

She reached for my hand as Carlisle retrieved the blood pressure cuff from his bag. "No, stay," she answered.

I smiled triumphantly at Carlisle as he velcroed the sphygmomanometer around Bella's bicep. He shook his head at me subtly, but I didn't care, I was too elated that she wanted me with her.

Carlisle took her blood pressure, pulse, and listened to her heart and lungs with his stethoscope—though Bella was right, he really didn't need it—while I kept a slight distance, not wanting to interfere because I knew the way her body behaved around me.

"Well," he said optimistically, setting his tools back in his bag, "everything looks good. I'd like you drinking more fluids though. At this point I don't care what it is—water, juice, even some weak tea." He patted her shoulder gently and offered up a smile.

Bella nodded. "Is there any reason I couldn't go home?"

And there it was, the phrase I had been dreading. It tumbled from her lips with such ease, such hope, that I was sure there was a fracture in my cold, dead heart. I knew that I wouldn't leave her alone, but I hoped that she wanted to be with me beyond the borders of this house.

Carlisle picked up on my anxiety. "I don't see why not, but I don't think you should be alone, and I don't think you should go back to work this week yet. You need much more rest and liquids first. Do you have a headache still?"

Bella cringed. "Just a very little. Honestly."

Carlisle moved toward the table at the bedside and retrieved the bottle of painkillers that had been there the better part of the week. He handed Bella two pills before looking over his shoulder at me. "Edward, water?"

I grabbed Bella's glass from the same table and darted into the ensuite bathroom, refilling the glass with cool water before I hurried back before her heart had beat five times. I handed her the glass with a smile.

"I'm still getting used to that," she admitted with a shake of her head before placing the pills in her mouth and tipping her head back as she drank. I watched her throat undulating, forcing the water down, before I had to make myself look away.

Carlisle offered an encouraging smile. "You're doing amazingly well with everything, Bella. I can't imagine what a shock it must be for you, but remember that we want to help you with your case if we can."

Bella returned the smile. "Thank you. We need the help. I don't know how to catch a vampire."

"You don't," I said somberly, thinking ahead to the only acceptable fate. "You kill them."

The glass slipped from her hand, and my hand shot out to catch it before it shattered, but the water sloshed over the sides, cascading down onto the carpet. Bella turned toward me, her hair swinging over her shoulder sending a waft of her delicious scent in my direction. The wide-eyed expression on her face betrayed her shock. "What?"

Carlisle, ever the diplomat, interrupted with a false cough. "I think we'd better discuss some things. Would you like to stay here where you can relax or come downstairs?"

Her mouth hung open for a moment and her eyes darted between me and Carlisle gauging our very different reactions. Carlisle was so calm and measured, but I cared for her enough that I couldn't bear to be untruthful with her. There was no way this could be glossed over or turn out alright. It could only end in death. Her mouth eventually snapped closed and a look of curious determination steeled across her face. "Let's go downstairs," she said, straightening out her rumpled clothing. She didn't give me a second glance as she followed Carlisle from the room. Her bare feet stomped resolutely over the padded carpeting, and I could just imagine her face drawn up in the most perfect bullheaded scowl. Perhaps if the situation hadn't been so damned serious, I'd have laughed.

I joined the little procession on the stairs, my siblings silently advancing from their rooms and following Carlisle and a bewildered Bella down to the living room. I fought with myself not to push Rosalie and Jasper aside and insert myself between them and Bella, especially when she turned and looked for me over her shoulder. Instead I mouthed the words, "It's okay," and watched as she cast suspicious glances over both shoulders at the horde of vampires around her.

Esme and Alice were already sitting together in the living room, whispering conspiratorially when the group arrived. Rosalie quickly took a seat on my new piano bench furthest away from the center of the room, and Jasper moved to stand behind Alice and Esme on the loveseat.

Bella hesitated briefly at the foot of the stairs before sniffling loudly and squaring her narrow shoulders. She took a couple hesitant steps into the living room, her eyes seeking out the only unoccupied piece of furniture opposite Carlisle and Esme. Her eyes darted over to meet mine as Carlisle gestured for her to take a seat. She plunked into the corner of the sofa and momentarily drew her knees up before correcting herself and sitting more erect. When I approached, she reached out for my hand with both of hers and drew me to take the seat next to her. I didn't know if this was false bravado or a real determination to prove to herself and me that she could handle me, this life, her circumstance, but I was ecstatic that she was here, trying.

Exhaling a breath as she drew our conjoined hands to her lap, my family continued to sit in silence and simply stare at her. Esme's and Alice's smiles were bordering on terrifying, Jasper looked as tense as usual, and Rosalie looked simply put out to be here at all. Poor Carlisle was racking his brain for acceptable and light topics of conversation, but he was far too preoccupied with our current situation to give it the old college try.

Instead, I looked over at Bella, catching her eyes with my own. I stroked her hand with my thumb, mimicking the rhythm of even respiration. Her skin was so soft, so warm, and I couldn't help but think of other soft, warm skin I'd touched on her body. I exhaled softly, willing her to calm her fears; no one in this house would harm her. "Breathe. Just breathe."

She nodded slightly, calming whatever residual nerves remained as I continued to let my thumb graze her skin as her breathing evened out and her heartbeat began to slow to a more relaxed rhythm.

"Where's Emmett?" I asked, giving Bella's hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

"He'll be in, in… thirty-seven seconds," Alice began, her face scrunching up slightly. "He's out running a patrol."

"Thirty-seven seconds?" Bella wondered aloud looking between me and Alice.

I nodded slightly; I hadn't mentioned the others' abilities. "Remember how I can read minds?" She nodded affirmatively. "Well, Alice can see the future and Jasper can manipulate emotions."

Bella's eyes went wide as she snapped her head back toward my sister. "For real?" she asked, completely stunned.

Alice smiled a little more genuinely now. "Yep. It works pretty well most of the time anyway. Like with Edward, _you're _still a little hiccup for me though. I can see your short-term future pretty well, it's the more distant future I can't see. Oh, here's Emmett in five…four…three…two…one…"

It was then that Emmett's thirty seven seconds were up, and the door flew open, slamming against the doorstop and nearly splintering off the hinges. "C'mon, let's do this!" Emmett boomed, clapping his hands together in a cheer more appropriate for a football game, not a tactical mission to bring down a vampire.

Bella jumped, startled by the loud noise and my even louder brother. "Hell," she said, clutching her chest, "not all of us here are dead."

"Geez, you big ox, can't you tell the human is scared? You don't have to come barging in," Rosalie snapped from the corner, folding her arms across her chest as Emmett lumbered into the living room. I echoed her sentiment, even if I didn't say it out loud.

Emmett's lips twitched up in a smile. "Sorry. Hey, what's up, Bella?" He came closer and held his fist out, nodding and encouraging her to bump it. Bella's cheeks reddened a little as she too fought not to smile and untangled her fingers from mine. She raised her hand tentatively and tapped Emmett's fist with her own.

"Awesome." Emmett went over and stood at Rosalie's side. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "So, what's the plan, kids? I'm geeked to get us a vampire."

Jasper sighed in an all too human gesture and shook his head. "It's not going to be that easy." The frustration was evident in his voice, and we could all feel it wafting through the room. I could see the furrow forming over Bella's brow mixed with the confusion of the moment.

Carlisle leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and tenting his fingers. "I want it on record that this isn't a game. There is a lot at stake here."

"No pun intended, right?" Bella asked, making a stab at vampire humor to break the awkward tension. She forced a smile and shrugged her shoulders.

"Bustin' out the vampire jokes?" Emmett asked, the wide smile splitting his face. "Atta girl. See, Edward, she can hang with us. I _like_ her."

I liked her too, and I wanted to keep her forever and forever and forever, but I still gave Emmett a dirty look for meddling.

Carlisle flashed Bella a little smile too. "Bella, you would be good for this family. All joking aside, this is a serious situation. One, it gives Bella the opportunity to seek long-overdue justice for her father's murder, and two, there is undoubtedly a chance to protect Rochester. They've been terrorized by a sloppy, injudicious killer for too long. Protecting Rochester helps us protect ourselves and limit exposure to all vampires. While I have no doubt we are doing the right thing by protecting humans and taking out a threat to us all, we must be mindful of the Volturi."

Bella wasted no time in asking the question I wished she wouldn't. "What's the Volturi?"

Seven vampires sat frozen, unsure of how to answer the simple question. Bella looked around the room, glancing from face to face waiting for the reply, her anxiety rising with each passing moment.

Esme reached over to rub Carlisle's back as he made eye contact with Bella and began to speak. "The Volturi are a coven of vampires in Italy. They've been around for centuries, and they're considered to be the ruling class of vampires. They're extremely powerful and enforce the rules of the vampire world. Due to their own unique gifts and talents, they are very well-suited and equipped to find problem situations and deal with matters swiftly."

Bella seemed to digest his statement for several moments, narrowing her eyes and tenting her fingers against her lips as she considered Carlisle's remarks. "And you said we'd have to be careful with these Volturi? Have we violated one of their rules?"

The fact that she said 'we' thrilled me to no end, despite the rampant fear that the Volturi could show up any day, and Bella was facing down something she couldn't possibly survive or defeat alone. Carlisle had walked a fine line by telling her about us. Technically, he hadn't revealed anything Bella hadn't already learned from James himself, but according to the Volturi Bella's fate had one of two ends—death or transformation. I dreamed of a future where Bella was less fragile and we could truly be together with no limitations. _Change her_, my subconscious repeated like a mantra, but how did you bring up the death and rebirth by fire to the girl you thought you were falling in love with? The same girl who watched her father savagely die at the hands of the very creature she would become.

"That depends," Carlisle responded to Bella's question, "on how generous they're feeling on any given day."

Bella waited, urging him to continue with just an arc of her eyebrows.

"There is really only one real rule in the vampire world, keeping our existence a secret. Most subsequent rules return to this larger issue. Hunting should be inconspicuous—the kind of people who shouldn't be missed. Remains should be disposed of, not left in plain sight for anyone to find. This James is absolutely flaunting that law with no concern for humans, other vampires, or the fate that surely awaits him should the Volturi hear of the goings on here in Rochester."

"And what might the punishment be for James, since he's violating cardinal law?" Bella asked hesitantly, gazing from face to face around the room.

Carlisle met her gaze when she finally looked to him. "Certain death. A slip up might be forgiven if humans weren't made aware of vampires, but it's unlikely. You can always count on the Volturi skewing things in their own favor, and they'll make an example out of you if it helps keep them strong and powerful."

Alice interjected. "Carlisle, I've not seen the Volturi react at all. They're still in Volterra, and they've made no move to leave."

Bella didn't ask about her own fate for having learned about vampires, and she seemed to be relaxed despite the grim news. I gave Jasper a subtle incline of my head in thanks, assuming he had some part in keeping Bella calm. She was handling this far better than I'd hoped. I was surprised when Jasper shook his head in negation.

"_It's all her, Edward."_

She was so brave, so tough. She'd seen horrible things in her life, things no human should see. And on a daily basis, no less. Murders, rapes, abuses of all kinds. And now vampires were being thrown in the mix. Still, she was handling this like just another case, calmly processing through the details and trying to solve the crime.

"So that means vampires can be killed then, right? Edward said… I mean, since I've seen them run across tree limbs three stories up and claw a hole in a human chest, I'd say jail isn't an option. How do we do this? I'm not going to be dumb enough to suggest stakes or silver bullets or something, but there is a way? I'm sorry if this is difficult to address."

The ease at which she discussed the matter at hand was equally liberating and terrifying. She was confident, calm, and above-all, interested. I knew this could be the culmination of an extremely painful chapter in her life, and the aspiration to get some amount of restitution was all-consuming. That desire drove her and simultaneously explained the plaguing sadness in her eyes. I couldn't help but be absolutely awed by her strength.

"No, it's a fair question to ask, Bella. Frankly, it's not easy to bring down a vampire, and it would take the whole of us working together as a family to do it with some measure of quiet. You can imagine how a vampire fight could attract attention. This would largely have to be a battle of wits, where we could lure him away from the city and ambush him."

She nodded, and I was glad that she didn't demand specifics. Regardless of her strength, there were things she didn't need to immediately know.

Bella continued nodding and appeared to be processing the conversation in her mind, considering questions and what to do next.

"So, what do we do now?"

And this was where we failing miserably. We'd been doing the same things for weeks now with absolutely no luck. Each of them had considered using Bella as bait, but thankfully none of them had the poor sense to utter it aloud. I couldn't imagine the fight that would commence. Though I knew none of them meant to endanger Bella and thought we would undoubtedly win any confrontation, that just wasn't an option for me. So we were back to square one. We had no idea if James would go further into hiding or redouble his efforts and be twice as bold. Poor Alice was still struggling to see my human girlfriend, something still so foreign to her, and felt she was failing miserably. She hoped if she fostered a closer relationship with Bella, her future might be revealed. Until then, my family would be vigilant, and I would protect Bella come hell or high water.

"We'll continue on as we have been," Jasper admitted. "We've been trying to track him for weeks, and we'll keep after him. He can't keep evading us. One of these nights we'll stumble across him or his scent and know exactly where to go."

"And someone will continue to keep you safe, Bella," Carlisle added.

There was only silence for several moments as everyone considered if there was anything more we could do. Eventually, I stood and extended a hand for Bella's. "If you're going to try and go home, we'd better get you going. Carlisle is only a phone call away, and we could always come back if you're not comfortable at home. Okay?"

I could tell she was still deep in thought by the way her teeth worried at her bottom lip and her brow furrowed over her dark eyes. "Yeah, okay," she said absently, snapping out of her reverie and taking my hand.

Alice stood up too and hesitantly approached us. "Bella, I'll get you your clothes that you were wearing, you know, when you were attacked. It's a little chilly out today, so I'll lend you something comfy to wear home."

Bella returned Alice's tentative smile and started toward the stairs with my sister. I knew nothing would please Alice more than to have Bella as a true friend—something she coveted dearly. As I ascended the stairs behind them, Alice's mind was going a mile a minute considering things she and Bella could do together as friends.

"And you're more than welcome to borrow any of my clothes any time. You're a little taller than me, so pants might be a problem, but I have a whole closet full of skirts, shirts, dresses, and sweaters."

Her enthusiasm was so genuine, so sweet. I really did hope for both of their sakes that they could become lifelong friends. And, of course, _sometimes_ Alice had the fast track on the answer to that very question.

Bella nodded by way of thanks and followed Alice into the bedroom around the corner on the first landing. I lingered at the doorway, waiting, _watching_ as Alice invited Bella to sit down. I desperately wanted to see how Bella interacted with the others in my family. Was she fearful? Anxious?

Neither, it seemed.

Alice flitted around the room, zipping from closet to bureau and back again, looking for something she deemed perfect for Bella. For her part, Bella seemed very alert, but simply looked around the room appraising Alice's shabby chic handiwork. Her eyes drifted over the little wrought iron and crystal chandeliers, the white-washed vanity dotted with Alice's favorite perfume bottles and trinkets, and the preserved magnolias that reminded Alice of an earlier time and place.

The familiar sadness had returned to Bella's eyes. Not in the sense that she coveted the possessions that my sister had, but rather it seemed a longing to have a history, a place in this world. Her dark eyes were wide and glassy behind unshed tears and she pressed her trembling lips together. Not for the first time, I was reminded of the little girl alone in the world without a soul to care for her. Little did Bella know that Alice had once been in the same position and didn't find her place until she met Jasper and saw the rest of our family. Maybe I would encourage Alice to talk more with Bella sometime.

"Here we go, how's this?" Alice said, handing Bella a burgundy hoodie and a pair of black yoga pants. "And here's your shorts and T-shirt, I washed them for you."

Alice handed Bella the pile of clothing and simply stood with her arms at her sides smiling gently. A thin smile stretched across Bella's face too, and she shrugged, taking the pile of clothes and held them to her chest.

"_Edward, can I _please_ hug her?"_

I knew Bella was safe and Alice was so full of compassion and caring that I couldn't say no.

Seeing the outcome, she stepped forward and enveloped Bella softly in her arms. Bella's face betrayed the utter shock behind the gesture. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open as Alice rested her chin on Bella's shoulder. It took her a moment to react, and she shifted the bundle of clothes to the crook of one arm and tentatively put her free arm around my sister's shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Alice gave Bella a little squeeze and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You're really good for Edward. He's a really good guy, and he was worried sick about you."

I shook my head at Alice's meddling, but I was touched all the same. Those days that Bella was semi-conscious were the worst days of my existence since I'd met her. Just when I'd finally won her over, just when the truth was finally coming out, the thought that she might unwell, that she might not handle the news, that she might reject me—it was nearly unbearable to consider. Waiting for her to wake up and come back to me had been torture.

"Um, thanks," Bella replied awkwardly, patting her shoulder, "for saving me and stuff."

"I'm just sorry I couldn't see it sooner. I'll have to work on seeing you," my sister admitted, tapping her own forehead.

They parted, and Alice smiled as Bella rejoined me in the hall. We continued down the corridor to my room at the end.

"Your sister is really nice," Bella admitted, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

I grabbed my backpack from the closet and set it down near Bella. "No one can argue that Alice's heart isn't always in the right place. There just isn't a selfish thought in her."

Bella nodded and folded her hands in her lap. "I can tell."

We both remained unmoving, wrapped up in the awkward moment. I didn't know how to broach the subject of staying with her for the foreseeable future. "Um, my father thinks I should stay with you for a while." I paused there and scrubbed a hand across the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed about what I was going to say. "And to tell you the truth I have no intention of leaving you alone until James is caught. Can I bring a couple changes of clothes with me to your apartment?"

"Of course."

I was happy there was no argument on her end, and I began to gather some necessities for a few days. As I crossed the room to retrieve some socks and boxers from my dresser, I noticed Bella grab the hem of her T-shirt and slowly tug upward.

I paused again, knowing full well I should take leave and give her some privacy. Certainly at some point I had been instilled with decent manners. "I—I'm sorry—I can, you know, step out for a minute."

She stopped just before revealing her breasts and looked over her right shoulder at me. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was loose and wild. Her eyes held a hint of mischievousness that I had seen on so many other occasions.

"It's okay, there's nothing here you haven't already seen."

And would like to see again and again.

She pulled the shirt over her head while I stood, simply gazing at the perfection of her body. Her skin was creamy and pale, and I could see the gentle curve of her breast peaking underneath her arm as she folded the borrowed T-shirt and set it in a pile at her right side. When she turned toward me, she caught me staring and smiled, letting her teeth sink into her lip and turning her eyes down to the discarded fabric.

When I saw the pale pink peak of her nipple, I forced myself to turn away and swallow back the temptation lurking within me to just knock her back on the bed and take her body. I tried to busy myself with packing my underclothes and adjusting my hard-on, but when I heard her shimmy out of her pants, I had to look back.

Her legs were so long and lean, and I could see the grey shading of her tattoo peaking above the waistband of her panties. I could count the days, the hours, the minutes since I had been inside her. Her safety and health over the last days was at the forefront of my mind—as always, but from day one, I could never, _never_ ignore how badly I wanted her.

Groaning, I adjusted myself again as she stepped into the yoga pants, which did very little to help curb my desire. The pants were extremely form-fitting and hugged her curves in the most delicious ways. I desperately wanted to run my hands down over her hips and thighs and linger at all my favorite places.

Bella rose from the bed, situating the waist of the pants low on her hipbones before turning to pick the hoodie up off the bed. Her hair was long enough to partially hide her breasts, but I know I didn't imagine the rose tint of her skin beneath the wavy strands. She slowly draped the jacket around her shoulders and slid her arms in the sleeves before she gathered her hair and pulled it out of her way, affording me a glimpse of her nipples again. Instinctively, I licked my lips.

I shook my head. It was unfair to ogle her in this way after the week she had, but I just couldn't seem to help myself. I continued to watch as she zipped the hoodie and folded her discarded clothes in a pile. It was only then that I forced myself to look away and resume my earlier task.

When my bag was packed and Bella's few belongings were collected, we made our way downstairs. I didn't resist the urge to rest my hand on the small of her back as she descended the stairs, my index finger seeking out the sliver of exposed skin above her waistline where the sweatshirt had ridden up slightly. She leaned into my touch.

Carlisle was waiting at the foot of the stairs with a small bottle of medication and a pack of Gatorade.

"Bella, I want you to take it easy the rest of the week. You're excused from work, take advantage of it to relax. Keep your fluid intake up and take some Tylenol for the pain. I'm only a phone call away, don't hesitate to get in contact if you have questions, and I want to know if that headache gets any worse."

Bella nodded obediently as Carlisle directed his attention toward me. "We'll be in touch. I know you're more than capable of handling any medical issues that come up."

I regrettably removed my hand from Bella's back and accepted the Gatorade and pills from Carlisle as our conversation switched to a silent one. _"We'll be out patrolling tonight, and let us know if the Police Department notifies Bella of any other attacks."_ I gave him a slight inclination of my head and directed Bella toward the living room where the rest of my family was waiting to say goodbye.

Before I could step away, he bumped my elbow with his own. _"And take it easy on her, tiger. She really does need rest."_

He smirked slightly and joined the family in wishing Bella the best and reminding her she was welcome in our home any time. Alice and Esme both hugged her lightly, Emmett extended his fist for another bump, and Jasper and Rosalie gave her a polite nod.

We said our final goodbyes and walked outside where Bella's car was waiting at the apex of the driveway. I dug into my pocket for the key fob and unlocked the doors and popped the trunk. Bella squinted up at the dark grey sky as I put my bag and her Gatorade inside.

"What time is it anyway?"

I looked down at my watch. "4:30."

She nodded. "Okay, well, what would you say to finally having our movie night that never quite happened?" she asked, reaching into the trunk and retrieving her badge and gun. She quickly disabled the safety and checked the clip to see how many rounds were left. Seemingly satisfied, she put the safety back on and tucked the gun into the waistband of her yoga pants behind her back. She tucked the badge in the front pocket of her hoodie. I watched with awe and fascination. Bella was strong and even though a gun wouldn't stop a vampire, she wasn't going to give up. She needed my protection, but she was independent and wanted to fight.

I smiled down at her, unable to help myself. "I think that sounds great."

~oOo~

Bella and I drove across town to her apartment, stopping along the way at her favorite Chinese restaurant for Sizzling Rice Soup and Mongolian Chicken. It smelled hideous, but she was happy and smiling as she peaked into the bag and inhaled the aroma.

The last mile or so, her hand rested on the seat between us, her slender fingers twitching and fidgeting as she cast sideways glances my way. Did she ache for my touch the way I ached for her? A true glutton for punishment, I reached across the seat to hook my little finger around hers. Her finger curled tightly around mine and she seemed to let out a nervous breath. "I needed that," she replied softly, staring out the passenger window.

I needed it too. I liked that Bella was independent and brave, but a guy—even a vampire—likes a little reassurance too.

For the duration of the ride, she drew my hand to the middle of her lap, and I could feel the heat of her body against my skin. She slowly drew her finger around on my palm, tracing the thin creases still adorning the flesh there, following the loops and whorls down to my fingertips. Sometimes she altered the pace of her finger—slow, quick, slow—and her touch made my skin tingle with stimulation. I tried, with increasing difficulty, to ignore the growing pheromone response from Bella. I had a precarious grasp on my control, and my choice to stay by Bella's side instead of hunting this week was taking its toll. I swallowed back venom, but all I could taste was Bella's scent on the air, and I was desperate to have it on my tongue.

I wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse when I pulled into her parking lot. I asked her to remain in the car while I quickly surveyed the area for anything unusual. It also afforded me a few moments of fresh air in the nick of time before I ravaged her in the back seat of her car.

Since I had officially met James now, I knew his precise scent, and I scoured the lot for anything that smelled unusual. When I determined the coast was clear, I grabbed the contents of the trunk and helped Bella from her car. Slipping my backpack on and tucking the drinks under my arm, I took her hand, her palm sliding against my own, as I led her up the stairs.

Stuck to her apartment door were two bright yellow notes saying recent deliveries had been left with a neighbor. Bella seemed mildly interested as she pulled the adhesive paper from the door before unlocking it. I edged into the room first and taking a deep breath. It smelled stale and undisturbed.

"It's okay," I replied, giving Bella's hand an encouraging squeeze.

She let out a sigh of relief and came into the room, looking around at her familiar, humble belongings. Engaging in familiar habits, she locked the door behind her, stowed her gun on the shelf by the door, and turned up the thermostat. She excused herself to the bathroom, and I took the brief time to plate up her dinner and pour the soup into a bowl. When she returned to find me busying myself in her kitchen, she simply stood at the entryway smiling.

Without wasting a minute, I scooped her up and dashed to the couch, propping her up against the pillows in the corner. "Blanket?" I asked.

She giggled. "Yes please. There should be one in the closet in the hall."

Racing to the narrow closet in the hall, I retrieved a blue fleece from a shelf near the top and hurried back. She laughed when she saw me return. I almost asked what was so funny, but I realized it as I unfurled the blanket over her body. It wasn't a blanket at all. It was a Snuggie with the likeness of Wonder Woman on it.

Bella slipped her arms into the sleeves while I returned to the kitchen at a more human pace and brought back the takeout food.

"I can tell you don't eat," she said, smiling down at the offering. "Everyone eats Chinese straight out of the carton."

I touched the end of her nose. "Perhaps I just thought you deserved better. Now what movie are we watching, Detective?"

She made her selection, _The Dark Knight_, and I settled in at the opposite end of the couch, placing her feet in my lap. I couldn't help but watch her as she quietly sipped the soup and handily used the chopsticks to eat her Mongolian chicken. Perhaps she couldn't understand it, but everything she did fascinated me. I'd seen the movie many times, and I couldn't spare it one moment's thought. I took notice of everything from the way her throat constricted when she swallowed a bite, to the way her legs squirmed when she caught me staring. I couldn't help but lick my lips in anticipation and want, causing a fresh burst of desire to blossom within her, causing a response in me. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, cooped up with my little human in this warm apartment for the next few days if I couldn't have her. Assuming she still wanted me that way at all.

Things were tense between us since she learned—no, understood, that I was a vampire. We'd been under the careful observation of my father and the rest of the family since Bella's accident leaving us little time or privacy for frank discussion about the direction of our relationship. I wasn't used to feeling so vulnerable, and I wanted answers, but I wasn't about to pressure her. Not only was I worried about the fragile state of her health, but if we simply kept on hovering near the edge of the status quo, I could delude myself that we were still _something_. My instinct clung to the telltale signs her body exhibited when I was around, but it wasn't enough, I wanted to hear her say the words, and I wanted to tell her how desperately I wanted her in return.

After some time, she dozed off and when I got up to take care of her dishes, I heard a familiar mental voice.

"Edward, let me in, I'm here to relieve you for a while."

It was my sister, and I couldn't fathom why she would be here now when we'd left the house only a short while ago.

I met Alice at the door, letting her in and pressed my finger to my lips in an attempt to keep her silent. She rolled her eyes and tapped her temple as if to remind me that she already knew what was going on in the first place.

"_Trust me, Edward. Go hunt. Bella will sleep for two to three hours. She needs the rest and you… need the… stamina." _She jerked her thumb at the door and arched an eyebrow at me. _"Now scoot."_

I regretfully left without a fight after she dropped my keys into my palm and all but pushed me out the door. I drove quietly through the city, but when I hit the highway west of Rochester, I quickly found myself racing nearly one hundred miles an hour toward an area where I knew I could find some easy prey. The faster to hunt, the faster to get back to Bella.

It didn't take me long to find some deer after I got to the park, but I couldn't make myself enjoy the hunt today. True, I didn't like hunting during daylight, but I couldn't seem to get Alice's thoughts out of my head. Stamina? What did she mean? Would Bella be testing my patience? Would there be an accident? Would her blood be spilled? I gorged myself on several deer worried that Bella's blood would prove an instinctual temptation yet this evening.

The entire drive back to Bella's apartment I wondered if I should call Carlisle and put him on alert that something might go wrong with Bella overnight. But surely if Bella were at risk Alice would have told me straight out, not skirted the issue? I tried not to think on it. Alice wouldn't jeopardize Bella in any way, but I found myself driving even faster on the return trip.

When I arrived back at Bella's, I quickly checked the perimeter once again, but found nothing out of the ordinary, so I hurried upstairs. Just as I was about to enter Bella's apartment, a nosey neighbor at the opposite end of the hall stuck her head out and began to watch me. I was going to enter the apartment directly, since Alice surely knew I had returned, but I thought better of it and lightly tapped on the door.

Alice answered before I could worry if I would wake Bella. She barely opened it a crack before dashing back to the couch at vampire speed where a very alert Bella was sitting with a mug of what smelled like coffee. She was still wrapped in her blanket and smiled behind the rim of the cup when she saw me. I returned her smile and slipped inside, leaving the curious neighbor to wonder.

It was clear that Bella and Alice had been in the middle of a discussion, and my sister had fibbed slightly about Bella sleeping three hours. It looked as though they'd been huddled together in discussion for some time, but I couldn't be too upset with Alice. She'd taken care of Bella, and Bella looked happy to see me return.

"Feeling better?" Bella asked when I sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. "Not thirsty anymore?" Her hair was twisted up into a bun on the top of her head and secured with the unused chopsticks from her dinner. It exposed her neck, and I had to check myself before answering her question.

I smirked, still amazed at her ability to discuss something so intricate to being a vampire after what she had been through. "I'm fine. How do _you_ feel? Rested?"

She nodded and shrugged. "For now. I've felt tired for days, even when I sleep a full night, so I guess I'm still recovering or whatever."

Alice patted Bella's knee before rising and slipping on her coat. "Carlisle said that's normal and not to worry. You'll be feeling a little more like yourself every day. He said short walks up and down the hall would help your endurance too."

She crossed the room to the door, and I tossed her my keys. I didn't know what she was up to or what she and Bella had been talking about, but I trusted her.

"Give me a call if you need another hunt. Carlisle suggested we all stay well-fed until we, you know, catch James."

Bella looked up but said nothing. I nodded at Alice in response. "Okay, I'll be in touch. Who is out on patrol tonight?" We decided to stick together in small groups. Even though we wouldn't cover as much ground, we'd stay safer together. It was clear that James was willing to take two of us on with no hesitation.

"Emmett, Rose, and Esme."

I nodded and Bella spoke up. "Please tell them to be careful, and thank them for me."

Alice smiled. "No worries, Bella. Good night, guys."

I stood and let Alice out. The sun was just setting, and although it wasn't too bright, she flipped up her hood before descending the stairs. I shut and locked the door and was about to ask Bella about her afternoon when there was a knock on the door. It wasn't Alice.

The smell outside the door had a slightly sour odor combined with something that smelled like stale flowers. It didn't occur to me immediately until I heard the thoughts on the other side of the door.

_There's something strange about that man. He's too handsome and looks like he has money too. Perhaps he's a gigolo?_

I laughed to myself as Bella climbed slowly off the couch eying me cautiously. "It's your neighbor. She thinks I'm a male escort."

Bella snorted and shuffled across the room still wrapped in her Snuggie. She handed me her coffee before answering the door.

"Oh, Bella dear, you _are_ home."

I rolled my eyes.

"Hi, Mrs. Harris, how are you?"

The elderly woman craned to see inside the apartment as she thrust a flower arrangement Bella's way. "Fine dear. These flowers came for you earlier in the week but you weren't home. The delivery girl left them with me."

Bella took the proffered flowers and smiled. "Thanks so much. I've been away. I hope it wasn't an inconvenience."

"_I wonder if that man left."_

"Oh no, dear, not at all. Get well soon."

Bella retreated inside the apartment and shut the door behind Mrs. Harris. She set the flowers down on the bar top between the kitchen and the living room. "How did she know I was sick?" she asked with a slight frown.

It was my turn to snort. "I'm pretty sure she read your card."

Sure enough, when Bella checked to see who had sent the flowers, the envelope had been torn open and hastily taped back together.

I couldn't deny that I was mildly interested in who sent the flowers. If it was that despicable partner of hers—who was married but still had the most disgusting and impure thoughts about his partner, and most other women—I would have to assert myself. Until she told me otherwise, Bella was my woman, and she was my mate and there was no misgiving that.

"The flowers are from Angela," she said, smiling and tucking the card back into the arrangement, casting a knowing glance over her shoulder.

Perhaps Mike Newton could live for another day.

I rejoined her on the couch and we watched another movie, but the mood this time was far different than during the first film. The television cast a lavender-grey hue throughout the room, and Bella shifted from sitting next to me to resting her back against my right shoulder. She took my hand in hers and draped our conjoined hands across her abdomen. It was the most intimate gesture we'd had in days and it left me wanting. The heat of her body, the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle thrum of her heart, and the absolute siren call of her scent. I wanted her.

When the movie was over, the credits rolled but neither of us made any inclination of moving. Bella had slouched more comfortably against me, her back resting against my chest. I had shifted to allow her to sit between my legs and she had continued to hold my hand, tracing my knuckles and the back of my hand. As the sweeping score of the film played on, Bella looked over her shoulder and reached back, slipping her fingers through my hair, pulling my head down to hers.

Our lips were close, sharing breath as we panted in anticipation of the kiss we both wanted. She licked her lips, and I felt her tongue brush against the corner of my mouth. It was _my_ undoing. I fused my lips to hers, parting them instantly with my tongue. It was a desperate, needy, and I drew her tighter to my body, feeling the curve of her ass against my groin. She whimpered and moved our tangled hands from to the zipper on her hoodie, quickly tugging the pull-tab down. As I heard the teeth separate, she pushed our hands inside to cup her breast.

Her skin was hopelessly soft and almost feverishly warm, and God forbid, I could not resist her. She pressed my palm over her nipple and squeezed my hand harder. I couldn't contain the groan that slipped out, causing her to tug my hair ever tighter in her little fist and arch her body against my hand. It only spurred me on because surely this wasn't enough. I'd had a taste of intimacy with her before, and I knew how sweet it could be. I wanted more.

I could smell the rush of pheromones in her body indicating exactly what she wanted. The temptation of her blood was inferior compared to lure of her arousal.

She broke the kiss panting loudly and writhing against me. "Edward, please."

My taste for her was nowhere near quenched. Could it ever be? And my mouth instinctively traveled to the juncture of her neck and shoulder inhaling deeply, catching a hint of the pomegranate soap she'd used that morning. Though the smell paled in contrast to Bella, it complimented her nicely. My lips fused over the pulse point there where I could _feel_ her body's response to me. Her pulse vibrated eagerly against my skin like an electrical shock.

She had fully unzipped her hoodie as my lips traveled up behind her left ear and across the back of her exposed neck giving her chills. Her hands kneaded my thighs as she continued to shiver with what I hoped was pleasure. The sweatshirt she wore caught between us as she shifted against me and pulled the fabric revealing more of her body with each movement until it slipped from her left shoulder exposing her arm to the elbow.

Just as my tongue swept over her carotid artery, I smelled the familiar fresh, sweet tang of her blood.

My hand stilled on her breast, and my eyes darted to the large bruise marring the crook of her left arm where she had forcibly removed the TV out several days before. She was still healing and recovering from her attack in the forest, and I was pawing at her like a common deviant. I wanted her, but I would not jeopardize her to take what my body desired.

"Edward, please," she begged again, her voice no more than a whimper.

I growled in frustration. "Bella, wait. I want this, I do, but you're still unwell." I removed my hand from the warmth of her chest and pushed it through my hair.

She sat up a little, turning and looking over her shoulder at me. "What?" she snapped, unclenching her hands from my thighs where they had been temptingly close to where I'd wanted them. "I'm fine, Edward—well, I was more than fine until ten seconds ago. I'm a little weak and tired, not dying. I want this, I want _you_."

Though the words were elating, I was unconvinced she wasn't as fragile as she claimed. Wouldn't Carlisle have warned me though? Is this why Alice had come over?

Bella took my silence for acquiescence and relaxed against me once again. Please?" she asked, picking up my hand and laying it against her cheek. "Please?" She kissed my palm before guiding my hand down over her throat. "Please?" she breathed, ghosting my hand over her décolletage and down between the valley of breast to her navel.

I was so close to giving in and letting us both have what we wanted, but I hesitated one last time, wanting her reassurance. "B—"

Withdrawing her hand from mine, she quickly silenced my protest with her finger against my lips. Or so I thought. She pushed her finger between my lips, sliding it over my tongue before removing it just as quickly before plunging her hand inside her pants.

She sighed with pleasure, and I could see her fingers moving beneath the fabric and smell the bouquet of her arousal. I began to tremble, my ability to resist her waning with each whimper.

I could deny her no more.

I pushed my hand beneath the waist of her pants and slid it in place over Bella's busy hand, feeling the moisture covering her fingers.

"Jesus, you are _so_ wet," I hissed, pressing my lips against her ear, letting my tongue dart out to taste the skin there.

"Oh God," she panted, letting me guide her fingers toward her release. "You—you're—this is all I've been about to think about for days." She planted her feet flat on the couch and bent her knees using the increased leverage to grind against my erection. There was no doubt I'd have to take care of that after she went to sleep. This moment, with our interlaced fingers slipping together over her clit would be the only fuel I'd need to aide my masturbatory fantasies for the rest of my existence.

I inhaled deeply, catching a hint of her arousal in the air. "You have no idea how badly I want to taste you," I whispered, sweeping my tongue over her earlobe. She had nothing to say but the bucking of her hips against our fingers increased, and she brought her other hand up to pinch one of her nipples.

Her panting and rocking increased, and my lips fastened once again over the place on her neck where her carotid artery trembled beneath her translucent skin. The act was the final provocation her body needed to tumble toward the ultimate ecstasy. I increased the pace of our fingers stroking smoothly across her aroused flesh before she gasped aloud one final time, and her body convulsed with strength of her orgasm. I was sure I'd never grow tired of her sighs of pleasure, the way her eyes fluttered closed, and how her lips parted when she experienced this kind of satisfaction.

Utterly relaxed now, she melted against me so soft and warm. I could feel the accelerated rise and fall of her ribcage as she tried to regain her breath. I stilled our fingers, still tangled together between her legs and slowly withdrew them from beneath the waist of her pants. Without over thinking, without hesitation, and with no guilt, I lifted our hands to my mouth and curled my tongue around our still-damp fingers. I moaned upon tasting the essence of her, the sweet tanginess so much better than I could have imagined that day at the café mere weeks ago. I suckled at our fingers until I could taste no hint of her there. I looked down to find her looking up at me. She withdrew her hand and rolled over onto her stomach while leaning in to kiss me. Her tongue passed languidly along my own, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could taste herself in our kiss. The thought made me impossibly harder.

Without provocation, she slid down the length of my body and onto her knees on the floor. I stilled her hands at the waist of my jeans when I realized her intent. "Bella, I don't expect—"

"Shh," she breathed, shaking her hands free. "I know you don't expect it. But I want it."

_Ugh, how could I say no?_

She popped the button and slowly slid the zipper down, her dark eyes never deviating from mine. I lifted my hips as she eased the fabric down to my knees, freeing my erection. Bella wasted no time in raking her hands up my thighs and leaning in, loose wisps of hair tickling my skin. My hips bucked in anticipation, and she paused only to lick her lips before taking me in her mouth.

A groan caught in my throat as I watched and felt her hot mouth descend upon me. "Oh Jesus, Bella." She took her time, alternating between licking up the length and sucking, her lips wrapped tight around me. I missed the connection of touching her and unfastened her hair so I could thread my fingers through it and help to set a rhythm. She whimpered, and the only thing I could do was close my eyes and throw my head back.

Eventually she began to increase her pace, sucking harder, using her teeth, and my hand drifted down from her hair over her temples and down to the hollow of her cheek. "I'm close," I grunted, stroking her smooth skin, feeling her take me in even farther. I let myself watch, seeing dark brown eyes looking up at me as my whole body tensed and shuddered with my release. She grasped my hips firmly and swallowed, humming, as I gasped for breath and rode out the aftershocks.

She rested her head on my thigh as she attempted to catch her breath, her panting warming my cold skin. The distance between us proved to be too much, and I hooked my hands under her arms and lifted her back up on the couch, letting her slump next to me. She was tired, I didn't heed Carlisle's advice to take it easy on her, but her lips were already turning up into a smile.

"I feel better than I have in days," she huffed with a breathless chuckle.

Smiling with her, I nuzzled her nose and stroked her cheek. "Me too."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_** My heartfelt thanks to duskwatcher2153. She definitely makes this fic better with her edits and suggestions. Go support her and read her fics.

I know it's been a while since I've updated, and for that I apologize. I'll reiterate that I will NOT flounce on writing this fic. It's no lack of interest on my part. It's been a busy school semester for me, I've had some health issues this winter, and I generally suffer from a lack of energy 24/7. I **promise** I'll keep updating til we're done! :-)

I have a couple of questions for you guys. Where do you get your fic recs at? What websites, communities do you follow?

I hope you are well. I'm busy finishing chapter 20 already, so hopefully we'll see each other soon!


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